PQ  6005  LB4S  L9  1905 


3   1822  01226  3430 


.Storer  Glouston 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


3   1822  01226  3430 


PS 


THE   LUNATIC  AT   LARGE 


THE 

LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE 

A  NOVEL 

BY 

J.   STOKER  CLOUSTON 

AUTHORIZED  EDITION 


BRENTANO'S 

NEW   YORK 
1905 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE. 

INTRODUCTORY. 


INTO  the  history  of  Mr  Francis  Beveridge,  as  sup- 
plied by  the  obliging  candour  of   the   Baron  von 
Blitzenberg  and  the  notes  of  Dr  Escott,  Dr  Twid- 
del  and  his  friend  Robert  Welsh  make  a  kind  of 
explanatory  entry.     They   most    effectually  set    the  ball 
a-rolling,  and  so  the  story  starts  in  a  small  room  looking 
out  on  a  very  uninteresting  London  street. 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  on  a  November  afternoon, 
that  season  of  fogs  and  rains  and  mud,  when  towns- 
people long  for  fresh  air  and  hillsides,  and  country-folk 
think  wistfully  of  the  warmth  and  lights  of  a  city,  when 
nobody  is  satisfied,  and  everybody  has  a  cold.  Outside 
the  window  of  the  room  there  were  a  few  feet  of  earth 
adorned  with  a  low  bush  or  two,  a  line  of  railings,  a  stone- 
paved  street,  and  on  the  other  side  a  long  row  of  uniform 
yellow  brick  houses.  The  apartment  itself  was  a  modest 
chamber,  containing  a  minimum  of  rented  furniture  and 
a  flickering  gas-stove.  By  a  small  easeful  of  medical 
treatises  and  a  conspicuous  stethoscope,  the  least  experi- 
enced could  see  that  it  was  labelled  consulting-room. 

5 


6  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

Dr  Twiddel  was  enjoying  one  of  those  moments  of 
repose  that  occur  even  in  the  youngest  practitioner's 
existence.  For  the  purposes  of  this  narrative  he  may  briefly 
be  described  as  an  amiable-looking  young  man,  with  a 
little  bit  of  fair  moustache  and  still  less  chin,  no  practice 
to  speak  of,  and  a  considerable  quantity  of  unpaid  bills. 
A  man  of  such  features  and  in  such  circumstances  invites 
temptation.  At  the  present  moment,  though  his  waist- 
coat was  unbuttoned  and  his  feet  rested  on  the  mantel- 
piece, his  mind  seemed  not  quite  at  ease.  He  looked 
back  upon  a  number  of  fortunate  events  that  had  not 
occurred,  and  forward  to  various  unpleasant  things  that 
might  occur,  and  then  he  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket 
and  read  it  abstractedly. 

"  I  can't  afford  to  refuse,"  he  reflected,  lugubriously; 
"  and  yet,  hang  it!  I  must  say  I  don't  fancy  the  job." 

When  metal  is  molten  it  can  be  poured  into  any  vessel ; 
and  at  that  moment  a  certain  deep  receptacle  stood  on  the 
very  doorstep. 

The  doctor  heard  the  bell,  sat  up  briskly,  stuffed  the 
letter  back  into  his  pocket,  and  buttoned  his  waistcoat. 

"  A  patient  at  last ! "  and  instantly  there  arose  a 
vision  of  a  simple  operation,  a  fabulous  fee,  and  twelve 
sickly  millionaires  an  hour  ever  after.  The  door  opened, 
and  a  loud  voice  hailed  him  familiarly. 

"  Only  Welsh,"  he  sighed,  and  the  vision  went  the  way 
of  all  the  others. 

The  gentleman  who  swaggered  in  and  clapped  the 
doctor  on  the  back,  who  next  threw  himself  into  the 
easiest  chair  and  his  hat  and  coat  over  the  table,  was  in 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  7 

fact  Mr  Robert  Welsh.  From  the  moment  he  entered 
he  pervaded  the  room;  the  stethoscope  seemed  to  grow 
less  conspicuous,  Dr  Twiddel's  chin  more  diminutive, 
the  apartment  itself  a  mere  background  to  this  guest. 
Why?  It  would  be  hard  to  say  precisely.  He  was  a 
black-moustached,  full-faced  man,  with  an  air  of  the 
most  consummate  assurance,  and  a  person  by  some 
deemed  handsome.  Yet  somehow  or  other  he  inevitably 
recalled  the  uncles  of  history.  Perhaps  this  assurance 
alone  gave  him  his  atmosphere.  You  could  have  felt 
his  egotism  in  the  dark. 

He  talked  in  a  loud  voice  and  with  a  great  air  of  mastery 
over  all  the  contingencies  of  a  life  about  town.  You 
felt  that  here  sat  one  who  had  seen  the  world  and  gave 
things  their  proper  proportions,  who  had  learned  how 
meretricious  was  orthodoxy,  and  which  bars  could  really 
be  recommended.  He  chaffed,  patronised,  and  cheered 
the  doctor.  Patients  had  been  scarce,  had  they?  Well, 
after  all,  there  were  many  consolations.  Did  Twidd- 
le say  he  was  hard  up  ?  Welsh  himself  in  an  even  more 
evil  case.  He  narrated  various  unfortunate  transactions 
connected  with  the  turf  and  other  pursuits,  with  regret, 
no  doubt,  and  yet  with  a  fine  rakish  defiance  of  destiny. 
Twiddel's  face  cleared,  and  he  began  to  show  something 
of  the  same  gallant  spirit.  He  brought  out  a  tall  bottle 
with  a  Celtic  superscription;  Welsh  half  filled  his  glass, 
poured  in  some  water  from  a  dusty  decanter,  and  proposed 
the  toast  of  "  Luck  to  the  two  most  deserving  sinners  in 
London ! " 

The  doctor  was  fired,  he  drew  the  same  letter  from  his 


8  THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE 

pocket,  and  cried,  "  By  Jove,  Welsh,  I'd  almost  forgotten 
to  tell  you  of  a  lucky  offer  that  came  this  morning. " 

This  was  not  strictly  true,  for  as  a  matter  of  fact  the 
doctor  had  only  hesitated  to  tell  of  this  offer  lest  he  should 
be  shamed  to  a  decision.  But  Welsh  was  infectious. 

"  Congratulations,  old  man ! "  said  his  friend.  "  What's 
it  all  about  ?  " 

"  Here's  a  letter  from  an  old  friend  of  my  people's — 
Dr  Watson,  by  name.  He  has  a  very  good  country  prac- 
tice, and  he  offers  me  this  job." 

He  handed  the  letter  to  Welsh,  and  then  added,  with  a 
flutter  of  caution,  "  I  haven't  made  up  my  mind  yet. 
There  are  drawbacks,  as  you'll  see." 

Welsh  opened  the  letter  and  read: — 

"  DEAR  TWIDDEL, — I  am  happy  to  tell  you  that  I  am 
at  last  able  to  put  something  in  your  way.  A  gentleman 
in  this  neighbourhood,  one  of  my  most  esteemed  patients, 
has  lately  suffered  from  a  severe  mental  and  physical 
shock,  followed  by  brain  fever,  and  is  still,  I  regret  to 
say,  in  an  extremely  unstable  mental  condition.  I  have 
strongly  recommended  quiet  and  change  of  scene,  and  at 
my  suggestion  he  is  to  be  sent  abroad  under  the  care  of  a 
medical  attendant.  I  have  now  much  pleasure  in  offering 
you  the  post,  if  you  would  care  to  accept  it.  You  will 
find  your  patient,  Mr  Mandell-Essington,  an  extremely 
agreeable  young  man  when  in  possession  of  his  proper 
faculties.  He  has  large  means  and  no  near  relatives ; 
he  comes  of  one  of  the  best  families  in  the  county ;  and 
though  he  has,  I  surmise,  sown  his  wild  oats  pretty  freely, 
he  was  considered  of  unusual  promise  previous  to  this 
unfortunate  illness.  He  is  of  an  amiable  and  pleasant 
disposition,  though  at  present,  we  fear,  inclined  to  suicidal 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  9 

tendencies.  I  have  no  particular  reason  to  think  he  is 
at  all  homicidal ;  still,  you  will  see  that  he  naturally  re- 
quires most  careful  watching.  It  is  possible  that  you  may 
hesitate  to  leave  your  practice  (which  I  trust  prospers) ; 
but  as  the  responsibility  is  considerable,  the  fee  will  be 
proportionately  generous — £500,  and  all  expenses  paid." 
("  Five  hundred  quid  ! "  exclaimed  Welsh.) 
"  I  would  suggest  a  trip  on  the  Continent.  The  dura- 
tion and  the  places  to  be  visited  will  be  entirely  at  your 
discretion.  It  is  of  course  hardly  necessary  to  say  that 
you  will  seek  quiet  localities.  Trusting  to  hear  from  you 
at  your  very  earliest  convenience,  believe  me,  yours  sin- 
cerely, TIMOTHY  WATSON." 

Welsh  looked  at  his  friend  with  the  respect  that  pros- 
perity naturally  excites.  He  smiled  on  him  as  an  equal, 
and  cried,  heartily,  "  Congratulations  again !  When  do 
you  start  ?  " 

Twiddel  fidgeted  uncomfortably,  "  I — er — well,  you 
see — ah — I  haven't  quite  made  up  my  mind  yet." 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Hang  it,  Welsh — er — the  fact  is  I  don't  altogether 
like  the  job." 

Scruples  of  any  kind  always  surprised  Welsh. 

"  Can't  afford  to  leave  the  practice  ?  "  he  asked  with 
a  laugh. 

"  That's — ah — partly  the  reason,"  replied  Twiddel, 
uncomfortably. 

"  Rot,  old  man !  There's  a  girl  in  the  case.  Out 
with  it ! " 

"  No,  it  isn't  that.  You  see  it's  the  very  devil  of  a 
responsibility." 


10  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

At  this  confession  of  weakness  he  looked  guiltily  at  his 
heroic  friend.  From  the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  wished 
he  had  screwed  up  his  courage  in  private.  Welsh  had  so 
little  imagination. 

"  By  Gad,"  exclaimed  Welsh,  "  I'd  manage  a  nunnery 
for  £500 ! " 

"  I  daresay  you  would,  but  a  suicidal,  and  possibly 
homicidal,  lunatic  isn't  a  nunnery." 

Welsh  looked  at  his  friend  with  diminished  respect. 

"  Then  you  are  going  to  chuck  up  .£500  and  a  free  trip 
on  the  Continent  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Dr  Watson  himself  admits  the  responsibility." 

"  With  a — what  is  it  ? — agreeable  young  man  ?  " 

"  Only  when  in  possession  of  his  proper  faculties," 
said  the  doctor,  dismally. 

"  And  an  amiable  disposition  ?  " 

"  With  suicidal  tendencies,  hang  it ! " 

"  I  should  have  thought,"  said  Welsh,  with  a  laugh, 
"  that  they  would  only  matter  to  himself." 

"  But  he  is  homicidal  too — or  at  least  it's  doubtful. 
I  want  to  know  a  little  more  about  that,  thank  you  ! " 

**  What  is  the  man's  name  ?  " 

"  Mandell-Essington." 

"  Sounds  aristocratic.  He  might  come  in  useful  after- 
wards, when  he's  cured." 

Welsh  spoke  with  an  air  of  reflection,  which  might  have 
been  entirely  disinterested. 

"  He'd  probably  commit  suicide  first,"  said  Twiddel, 
"  and  of  course  I'd  get  all  the  blame." 

"  Or  homicide,"  replied  Welsh,  "  When  he  would." 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  11 

"  No,  he  wouldn't — that's  the  worst  of  it ;  I'd  be 
blamed  for  having  my  own  throat  cut." 

"  Twiddel,"  said  his  friend,  deliberately,  "  it  seems  to 
me  you're  a  fool." 

"  I'm  at  least  alive,"  cried  Twiddel,  warming  with 
sympathy  for  himself,  "  which  I  probably  wouldn't  be  for 
long  in  Mr  Essington's  company." 

"  I  don't  blame  your  nerves,  dear  boy,"  said  Welsh, 
with  a  smile  that  showed  all  his  teeth,  "  only  your  head. 
Here  are  £500  going  a-begging.  There  must  be  some 

way "  He  paused,  deep  in  reflection.  "  How  would 

it  do,"  he  remarked  in  a  minute,  "  if  7  were  to  go  in  your 
place?" 

Twiddel  laughed  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Couldn't  be  managed  ?  " 

"  Couldn't  possibly,  I'm  afraid." 

"  No,"  said  Welsh.     "I  foresee  difficulties." 

He  fished  a  pipe  out  of  his  pocket,  filled  and  lit  it,  and 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  gazing  at  the  ceiling. 

"  Twiddel,  my  boy,"  he  said  at  length,  "  will  you  give 
me  a  percentage  of  the  fee  if  I  think  of  a  safe  dodge  for 
getting  the  money  and  preserving  your  throat  ?  " 

Twiddel  laughed. 

"Rather!"  he  said. 

"  I  am  perfectly  serious,"  replied  Welsh,  keenly.  "  I'm 
certain  the  thing  is  quite  possible." 

He  half  closed  his  eyes  and  ruminated  in  silence.  The 
doctor  watched  him — fascinated,  afraid.  Somehow  or 
other  he  felt  that  he  was  already  a  kind  of  Guy  Fawkes. 
There  was  something  so  unlawful  in  Welsh's  expression. 


12  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

They  sat  there  without  speaking  for  about  ten  minutes, 
and  then  all  of  a  sudden  Welsh  sprang  up  with  a  shout  of 
laughter,  slapping  first  his  own  leg  and  then  the  doctor's 
back. 

"  By  Gad,  I've  got  it ! "  he  cried.     "  I  have  it! " 

And  he  had;  hence  this  tale. 


PART  I. 


CHAPTER  I. 

IN  a  certain  fertile  and  well-wooded  county  of  Eng- 
land there  stands  a  high  stone  wall.     On  a  sunny 
day  the    eye  of   the  traveller  passing  through  this 
province  is  gratified  by  the  sparkle  of  myriads  of 
broken  bottles  arranged  closely  and  continuously  along  its 
coping-stone.     Above   these  shining  facets  the  boughs  of 
tall  trees  swing  in  the  wind  and  throw  their  shadows 
across  the  highway.     The  wall  at  last  leaves  the  road  and 
follows  the  park  round  its  entire  extent.     Its  height  never 
varies;   the  broken  bottles  glitter  perpetually;  and  only 
through  two  entrances,  and  that  when  the  gates  are  open, 
can  one  gain  a  single  glimpse  inside  :    for  the  gates  are 
solid,  with  no  chinks  for  the  curious. 

The  country  all  round  is  undulating,  and  here  and 
there  from  the  crest  of  an  eminence  you  can  see  a  great 
space  of  well-timbered  park  land  within  this  wall  ;  and 
hi  winter,  when  the  leaves  are  off  the  trees,  you  may 
spy  an  imposing  red-brick  mansion  in  the  midst. 

Any  native  will  inform  you,  with  a  mixture  of  infectious 
awe  and  becoming  pride,  that  this  is  no  less  than  the 
far-famed  private  asylum  of  Clankwood. 

This  ideal   institution  bore  the  enviable  reputation  of 

13 


14  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

containing  the  best-bred  lunatics  in  England.  It  was 
credibly  reported  that  however  well  marked  their  symp- 
toms and  however  well  developed  their  delusions,  none  but 
ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  most  unblemished  descent 
were  permitted  to  enjoy  its  seclusion.  The  dances  there 
were  universally  considered  the  most  agreeable  functions 
in  the  county.  The  conversation  of  many  of  the  in- 
mates was  of  the  widest  range  and  the  most  refreshing 
originality,  and  the  demeanour  of  all,  even  when  most 
free  from  the  conventional  trammels  of  outside  society, 
bore  evidence  of  an  expensive,  and  in  some  cases  of  a 
Christian,  upbringing.  This  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered 
at,  when  beneath  one  roof  were  assembled  the  heirs- 
presumptive  to  three  dukedoms,  two  suicidal  marquises, 
an  odd  archbishop  or  so,  and  the  flower  of  the  baronetage 
and  clergy.  As  this  list  only  includes  a  few  of  the  celeb- 
rities able  or  willing  to  be  introduced  to  distinguished 
visitors,  and  makes  no  mention  of  the  uncorroborated 
dignities  (such  as  the  classical  divinities  and  Old  Testa- 
ment duplicates),  the  anxiety  shown  by  some  people  to 
certify  their  relations  can  easily  be  understood. 

Dr  Congleton,  the  proprietor  and  physician  of  Clank- 
wood,  was  a  gentleman  singularly  well  fitted  to  act  as 
host  on  the  occasion  of  asylum  reunions.  No  one  could 
exceed  him  in  the  respect  he  showed  to  a  coroneted  head, 
even  when  cracked;  and  a  bishop  under  his  charge  was 
always  secured,  as  far  as  possible,  from  the  least  whisper 
of  heretical  conversation.  He  possessed  besides  a  pleasant 
rubicund  countenance  and  an  immaculate  wardrobe. 
He  was  further  fortunate  in  having  in  his  assistants, 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  15 

Dr  Escott  and  Dr  Sherlaw,  two  young  gentlemen  whose 
medical  knowledge  was  almost  equal  to  the  affability 
of  their  manners  and  the  excellence  of  their  family  con- 
nections. 

One  November  night  these  two  were  sitting  over  a 
comfortable  fire  in  Sherlaw's  room.  Twelve  o'clock 
struck,  Escott  finished  the  remains  of  something  in  a 
tumbler,  rose,  and  yawned  sleepily. 

"  Time  to  turn  in,  young  man,"  said  he. 

"  I  suppose  it  is,"  replied  Sherlaw,  a  very  pleasant 
and  boyish  young  gentleman.  "Hullo!  What's  that? 
A  cab?" 

They  both  listened,  and  some  way  off  they  could  just 
pick  out  a  sound  like  wheels  upon  gravel. 

"It's  very  late  for  any  one  to  be  coming  in,"  said 
Escott. 

The  sound  grew  clearer  and  more  unmistakably  like  a 
cab  rattling  quickly  up  the  drive. 

"  It  is  a  cab,"  said  Sherlaw. 

They  heard  it  draw  up  before  the  front  door,  and  then 
there  came  a  pause. 

"Who  the  deuce  can  it  be?"  muttered  Escott. 

In  a  few  minutes  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  and 
a  servant  entered. 

"A  new  case,  sir.  Want's  to  see  Dr  Congleton  par- 
ticular." 

"A  man  or  a  woman?" 

"Man,  sir." 

"All  right,"  growled  Sherlaw.  "I'll  come,  confound 
him." 


16  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"Bad  luck,  old  man,"  laughed  Escott.  "I'll  wait 
here  in  case  by  any  chance  you  want  me." 

He  fell  into  his  chair  again,  lit  a  cigarette,  and  sleepily 
turned  over  the  pages  of  a  book.  Dr  Sherlaw  was  away 
for  a  little  time,  and  when  he  returned  his  cheerful  face 
wore  a  somewhat  mystified  expression. 

"Well?  "asked  Escott. 

"Rather  a  rum  case,"  said  his  colleague,  thought- 
fully. 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"Don't  know." 

"Who  was  it?" 

"Don't  know  that  either." 

Escott  opened  his  eyes. 

"What  happened,  then?" 

"Well,"  said  Sherlaw,  drawing  his  chair  up  to  the  fire 
again,  "I'll  tell  you  just  what  did  happen,  and  you  can 
make  what  you  can  out  of  it.  Of  course,  I  suppose  it's 
all  right,  really,  but — well,  the  proceedings  were  a  little 
unusual,  don't  you  know. 

"I  went  down  to  the  door,  and  there  I  found  a  four- 
wheeler  with  a  man  standing  beside  it.  The  door  of 
the  cab  was  shut,  and  there  seemed  to  be  two  more  men 
inside.  This  chap  who'd  got  out — a  youngish  man — 
hailed  me  at  once  as  though  he'd  bought  the  whole 
place. 

"'You  Dr  Congleton?' 

"'Damn  your  impertinence!'  I  said  to  myself,  'ringing 
people  up  at  this  hour,  and  talking  like  a  bally  drill- 
sergeant.' 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  17 

"I  told  him  politely  I  wasn't  old  Congers,  but  that  I*d 
make  a  good  enough  substitute  for  the  likes  of  him. 

" '  I  tell  you  what  it  is,'  said  the  Johnnie,  '  I've  brought 
a  patient  for  Dr  Congleton,  a  cousin  of  mine,  and  I've 
got  a  doctor  here,  too.  I  want  to  see  Dr  Congleton.' 

"'He's  probably  in  bed,'  I  said,  'but  I'll  do  just  as 
well.  I  suppose  he's  certified,  and  all  that.' 

"'Oh,  it's  all  right,'  said  the  man,  rather  as  though  he 
expected  me  to  say  that  it  wasn't.  He  looked  a  little 
doubtful  what  to  do,  and  then  I  heard  some  one  inside 
the  cab  call  him.  He  stuck  his  head  in  the  window  and 
they  confabbed  for  a  minute,  and  then  he  turned  to  me 
and  said,  with  the  most  magnificent  air  you  ever  saw, 
like  a  chap  buying  a  set  of  diamond  studs, '  My  friend  here 
is  a  great  personal  friend  of  Dr  Congleton,  and  it's  a 

damned I  mean  it's  an  uncommonly  delicate  matter. 

We  must  see  him.' 

"Well,  if  you  insist,  I'll  see  if  I  can  get  him,'  I  said; 
'but  you'd  better  come  in  and  wait.' 

"So  the  Johnnie  opened  the  door  of  the  cab,  and  there 
was  a  great  hauling  and  pushing,  my  friend  pulling  an 
arm  from  the  outside,  and  the  doctor  shoving  from  within, 
and  at  last  they  fetched  out  their  patient.  He  was  a 
tall  man,  in  a  very  smart-looking,  long,  light  top-coat, 
and  a  cap  with  a  large  peak  shoved  over  his  eyes,  and  he 
seemed  very  unsteady  on  his  pins. 

" '  Drunk,  by  George ! '    I  said  to  myself  at  first. 

"  The  doctor — another  young-looking  man — hopped  out 
after  him,  and  they  each  took  an  arm,  lugged  their  patient 
into  the  waiting-room,  and  popped  him  into  an  arm- 


18  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

chair.  There  he  collapsed,  and  sat  with  his  head  hanging 
down  as  limp  as  a  sucked  orange. 

"I  asked  them  if  anything  was  the  matter  with  him. 

"  *  Only  tired, — just  a  little  sleepy,'  said  the  cousin. 

"And  do  you  know,  Escott,  what  I'd  stake  my  best 
boots  was  the  matter  with  him  ?  " 

"What?" 

"The  man  was  drugged!" 

Escott  looked  at  the  fire  thoughtfully. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "it's  quite  possible;  he  might  have 
been  too  violent  to  manage." 

"Why  couldn't  they  have  said  so,  then?" 

"H'm.  Not  knowing,  can't  say.  What  happened 
next?" 

"  Next  thing  was,  I  asked  the  doctor  what  name  I  should 
give.  He  answered  in  a  kind  of  nervous  way,  'No  name; 
you  needn't  give  any  name.  I  know  Dr  Congleton  per- 
sonally. Ask  him  to  come,  please.'  So  off  I  tooled,  and 
found  old  Congers  just  thinking  of  turning  in. 

"'My  clients  are  sometimes  unnecessarily  discreet,' 
he  remarked  in  his  pompous  way  when  I  told  him  about 
the  arrival,  and  of  course  he  added  his  usual  platitude 
about  our  reputation  for  discretion. 

"I  went  back  with  him  to  the  waiting-room,  and  just 
stood  at  the  door  long  enough  to  see  him  hail  the  doctor 
chap  very  cordially  and  be  introduced  to  the  patient's 
cousin,  and  then  I  came  away.  Rather  rum,  isn't 
it?" 

"You've  certainly  made  the  best  of  the  yam,"  said 
Escott  with  a  laugh. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  19 

"By  George,  if  you'd  been  there  you'd  have  thought 
it  funny  too." 

"Well,  good-night,  I'm  off.  We'll  probably  hear  to- 
morrow what  it's  all  about." 

But  in  the  morning  there  was  little  more  to  be  learned 
about  the  new-comer's  history  and  antecedents.  Dr 
Congleton  spoke  of  the  matter  to  the  two  young  men, 
with  the  pompous  cough  that  signified  extreme  discretion. 

"Brought  by  an  old  friend  of  mine,"  he  said.  "A 
curious  story,  Escott,  but  quite  intelligible.  There  seem 
to  be  the  best  reasons  for  answering  no  questions  about 
him;  you  understand?" 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  said  the  two  assistants,  with  the  more 
assurance  as  they  had  no  information  to  give. 

"I  am  perfectly  satisfied,  mind  you — perfectly  satis- 
fied," added  their  chief. 

"By  the  way,  sir,"  Sherlaw  ventured  to  remark,  "hadn't 
they  given  him  something  in  the  way  of  a  sleeping- 
draught?" 

"  Eh  ?  Indeed  ?  I  hardly  think  so,  Sherlaw,  I  hardly 
think  so.  Case  of  reaction  entirely.  Good  morning." 

"Congleton  seems  satisfied,"  remarked  Escott. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  the  junior,  profoundly.  "  Old 
Congers  is  a  very  good  chap,  and  all  that,  but  he's  not 
what  I  should  call  extra  sharp.  /  should  feel  uncommon 
suspicious." 

"H'm,"  replied  Escott.  "As  you  say,  our  worthy 
chief  is  not  extra  sharp.  But  that's  not  our  business, 
after  all." 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE 


CHAPTER  H. 

"By  the  way,"  said  Escott,  a  couple  of  days  later, 
"how  is  your  mysterious  man  getting  on?  I  haven't 
seen  him  myself  yet." 

Sherlaw  laughed. 

"He's  turning  out  a  regular  sportsman,  by  George! 
For  the  first  day  he  was  more  or  less  in  the  same  state  in 
which  he  arrived.  Then  he  began  to  wake  up  and  ask 
questions.  'What  the  devil  is  this  place?'  he  said  to  me 
in  the  evening.  It  may  sound  profane,  but  he  was  very 
polite,  I  assure  you.  I  told  him,  and  he  sort  of  raised 
his  eyebrows,  smiled,  and  thanked  me  like  a  Prime 
Minister  acknowledging  an  obligation.  Since  then  he 
has  steadily  developed  sporting,  not  to  say  frisky,  tastes. 
He  went  out  this  morning,  and  in  five  minutes  had  his 
arm  round  one  of  the  prettiest  nurses'  waist.  And  she 
didn't  seem  to  mind  much  either,  by  George!" 

"He'll  want  a  bit  of  looking  after,  I  take  it." 

"Seems  to  me  he  is  uncommonly  capable  of  taking 
care  of  himself.  The  rest  of  the  establishment  will  want 
looking  after,  though." 

From  this  time  forth  the  mysterious  gentleman  began 
to  regularly  take  the  air  and  to  be  remarked,  and  having 
once  remarked  him,  people  looked  again. 

Mr  Francis  Beveridge,  for  such  it  appeared  was  his 
name,  was  distinguished  even  for  Clankwood.  Though 
his  antecedents  were  involved  in  mystery,  so  much  con- 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  21 

fidence  was  placed  in  Dr  Congleton's  discrimination 
that  the  unknown  stranger  was  at  once  received  on  the 
most  friendly  terms  by  every  one;  and,  to  tell  the  truth, 
it  would  have  been  hard  to  repulse  him  for  long.  His 
manner  was  perfect,  his  conversation  witty  to  the  ex- 
tremest  verge  of  propriety,  and  his  clothes,  fashionable 
in  cut  and  of  unquestionable  fit,  bore  on  such  of  the 
buttons  as  were  made  of  metal  the  hall  mark  of  a  lead- 
ing London  firm.  He  wore  the  longest  and  most  silky 
moustaches  ever  seen,  and  beneath  them  a  short  well- 
tended  beard  completed  his  resemblance — so  the  ladies 
declared — to  King  Charles  of  unhappy  memory.  The 
melancholic  Mr  Jones  (quondam  author  of  'Sunflowers 
— A  Lyrical  Medley')  declared,  indeed,  that  for  Mr 
Beveridge  shaving  was  prohibited,  and  darkly  whispered 
"  suicidal,"  but  his  opinion  was  held  of  little  account. 

It  was  upon  a  morning  about  a  week  after  his  arrival 
that  Dr  Escott,  alone  in  the  billiard-room,  saw  him  enter. 
Escott  had  by  this  time  made  his  acquaintance,  and, 
like  almost  everybody  else,  had  already  succumbed  to 
the  fascination  of  his  address. 

"Good  morning,  doctor,"  he  said;  "I  wish  you  to  do 
me  a  trifling  favour,  a  mere  bending  of  your  eyes." 

Escott  laughed. 

"I  shall  be  delighted.     What  is  it?" 

Mr  Beveridge  unbuttoned  his  waistcoat  and  displayed 
his  shirt-front. 

"I  only  want  you  to  be  good  enough  to  read  the  in- 
scription written  here." 

The  doctor  bent  down. 


22  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"'Francis  Beveridge,'"  he  said.     "That's  all  I  see." 

"And  that's  all  I  see,"  said  Mr  Beveridge.  "Now 
what  can  you  read  here  ?  I  am  not  troubling  you  ? " 

He  held  out  his  handkerchief  as  he  spoke. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  laughed  the  doctor,  "  but  I  only  see  '  Fran- 
cis Beveridge'  here  too,  I'm  afraid." 

"Everything  has  got  it,"  said  Mr  Beveridge,  shaking 
his  head,  it  would  be  hard  to  say  whether  humorously 
or  sadly.  "'Francis  Beveridge'  on  everything.  It  fol- 
lows, I  suppose,  that  I  am  Francis  Beveridge?" 

"What  else?"  asked  Escott,  who  was  much  amused. 

"That's  just  it.  What  else?"  said  the  other.  He 
smiled  a  peculiarly  charming  smile,  thanked  the  doctor 
with  exaggerated  gratitude,  and  strolled  out  again. 

"He  is  a  rum  chap,"  reflected  Escott. 

And  indeed  in  the  outside  world  he  might  safely  have 
been  termed  rather  rum,  but  here  in  this  backwater, 
so  full  of  the  oddest  flotsam,  his  waywardness  was  rather 
less  than  the  average.  He  had,  for  instance,  a  diverting 
habit  of  modifying  the  time,  and  even  the  tune,  of  the 
hymns  on  Sunday,  and  he  confessed  to  having  kissed 
all  the  nurses  and  housemaids  except  three.  But  both 
Escott  and  Sherlaw  declared  they  had  never  met  a  more 
congenial  spirit.  Mr  Beveridge's  game  of  billiards  was 
quite  remarkable  even  for  Clankwood,  where  the  enforced 
leisure  of  many  of  the  noblemen  and  gentlemen  had 
made  them  highly  proficient  on  the  spot;  he  showed  every 
promise,  on  his  rare  opportunities,  of  being  an  unusually 
entertaining  small  hour,  whisky-and-soda  raconteur;  in 
fact,  he  was  evidently  a  man  whose  previous  career, 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  23 

whatever  it  might  have  been  (and  his  own  statements 
merely  served  to  increase  the  mystery  round  this  point), 
had  led  him  through  many  humorous  by-paths,  and  left 
him  with  few  restrictive  prejudices. 

November  became  December,  and  to  all  appearances 
he  had  settled  down  in  his  new  residence  with  complete 
resignation,  when  that  unknowable  factor  that  upsets  so 
many  calculations  came  upon  the  scene, — the  factor,  I 
mean,  that  wears  a  petticoat. 

Mr  Beveridge  strolled  into  Escott's  room  one  morning 
to  find  the  doctor  inspecting  a  mixed  assortment  of  white 
kid  gloves. 

"Do  these  mean  past  or  future  conquests?"  he  asked 
with  his  smile. 

"  Both,"  laughed  the  doctor.  "  I'm  trying  to  pick  out 
a  clean  pair  for  the  dance  to-night." 

"  You  go  a-dancing,  then  ?  " 

"Don't  you  know  it's  our  own  monthly  ball  here?" 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr  Beveridge,  passing  his  hand 
quickly  across  his  brow.  "  I  must  have  heard,  but  things 
pass  so  quickly  through  my  head  nowadays." 

He  laughed  a  little  conventional  laugh,  and  gazed  at 
the  gloves. 

"You  are  coming,  of  course?"  said  Escott. 

"If  you  can  lend  me  a  pair  of  these.  Can  you  spare 
one?" 

"Help  yourself,"  replied  the  doctor. 

Mr  Beveridge  selected  a  pair  with  the  care  of  a  man 
who  is  particular  in  such  matters,  put  them  in  his  pocket, 
thanked  the  doctor,  and  went  out. 


24  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

"  Hope  he  doesn't  play  the  fool,"  thought  Escott. 

Invitations  to  the  balls  at  Clankwood  were  naturally 
in  great  demand  throughout  the  county,  for  nowhere 
were  noblemen  so  numerous  and  divinities  so  tangible. 
Carriages  and  pairs  rolled  up  one  after  another,  the 
mansion  glittered  with  lights,  the  strains  of  the  band 
could  be  heard  loud  and  stirring  or  low  and  faintly  all 
through  the  house. 

"Who  is  that  man  dancing  opposite  my  daughter?" 
asked  the  Countess  of  Grillyer. 

"A  Mr  Beveridge,"  replied  Dr  Congleton. 

Mr  Beveridge,  in  fact,  the  mark  of  all  eyes,  was  dancing 
in  a  set  of  lancers.  The  couple  opposite  to  him  consisted 
of  a  stout  elderly  gentleman  who,  doubtless  for  the  best 
reasons,  styled  himself  the  Emperor  of  the  two  Americas, 
and  a  charming  little  pink  and  flaxen  partner — the  Lady 
Alicia  a  Fyre,  as  everybody  who  was  anybody  could  have 
told  you.  The  handsome  stranger  moved,  as  might  be 
expected,  with  his  accustomed  grace  and  air  of  distinc- 
tion, and,  probably  to  convince  his  admirers  that  there 
was  nothing  meretricious  in  his  performance,  he  carried 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  the  whole  time.  This  certainly 
caused  a  little  inconvenience  to  his  partner,  but  to  be 
characteristic  in  Clankwood  one  had  to  step  very  far  out 
of  the  beaten  track. 

For  two  figures  the  Emperor  snorted  disapproval, 
but  at  the  end  of  the  third,  when  Mr  Beveridge  had  been 
skipping  round  the  outskirts  of  the  set,  his  hands  still 
thrust  out  of  sight,  somewhat  to  the  derangement  of  the 
customary  procedure,  he  could  contain  himself  no  longer. 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  25 

Hey,  young  man!"  he  asked  in  his  most  stentorian 
voice,  as  the  music  ceased,  "are  you  afraid  of  having  your 
pockets  picked?" 

"Alas!"  replied  Mr  Beveridge,  "it  would  take  two  men 
to  do  that." 

"Huh!"  snorted  the  Emperor,  "you  are  so  d — d  strong, 
are  you  ?  " 

"I  mean,"  answered  his  vis-ct-vis  with  his  polite  smile, 
"that  it  would  take  one  man  to  put  something  in  and 
another  to  take  it  out." 

This  remark  not  only  turned  the  laugh  entirely  on  Mr 
Beveridge's  side,  but  it  introduced  the  upsetting  factor. 


CHAPTER  in. 

The  Lady  Alicia  a  Fyre,  though  of  the  outer  everyday 
world  herself,  had,  in  common  with  most  families  of  any 
pretensions  to  ancient  dignity,  a  creditable  sprinkling 
of  uncles  and  cousins  domiciled  in  Clankwood,  and  so 
she  frequently  attended  these  dances. 

To-night  her  eye  had  been  caught  by  a  tall,  graceful 
figure  executing  a  pas  seul  in  the  middle  of  the  room  with 
its  hands  in  its  pockets.  The  face  of  this  gentleman  was 
so  composed  and  handsome,  and  he  seemed  so  oblivious 
to  the  presence  of  everybody  else,  that  her  interest  was 
immediately  excited.  During  the  set  of  lancers  in  which 
he  was  her  vis-a-vis  she  watched  him  furtively  with  a 
growing  feeling  of  admiration.  She  had  never  heard  him 


26  THE    LUNATIC  AT   LARGE 

say  a  word,  and  it  was  with  a  sensation  of  the  liveliest 
interest  that  she  listened  to  his  brief  passage  with  her 
partner.  At  his  final  retort  her  tender  heart  was  over- 
come with  pity.  He  was  poor,  then,  or  at  least  he  was 
allowed  the  use  of  no  money.  And  all  of  him  that  was 
outside  his  pockets  seemed  so  sane  and  so  gentlemanly; 
it  seemed  a  pity  to  let  him  lack  a  little  sympathy. 

The  Lady  Alicia  might  be  described  as  a  becoming 
frock  stuffed  with  sentiment.  Through  a  pair  of  large 
blue  eyes  she  drank  in  romance,  and  with  the  reddest 
and  most  undecided  of  lips  she  felt  a  vague  desire  to  kiss 
something.  At  the  end  of  the  dance  she  managed  by 
a  series  of  little  manoeuvres  to  find  herself  standing  close 
to  his  elbow.  She  sighed  twice,  but  he  still  seemed  ab- 
sorbed in  his  thoughts.  Then  with  a  heroic  effort  she 
summed  up  her  courage,  and  said  in  a  low  and  rather 
shaky  voice,  "You — you — you  are  unha — appy." 

Mr  Beveridge  turned  and  looked  down  on  her  with 
great  interest.  Her  eyes  met  his  for  a  moment  and 
straightway  sought  the  floor.  Thus  she  saw  nothing  of 
a  smile  that  came  and  went  like  the  shadow  of  a  puff  of 
smoke.  He  took  his  hands  out  of  his  pockets,  folded  his 
arms,  and,  with  an  air  of  the  deepest  dejection,  sighed 
heavily.  She  took  courage  and  looked  up  again,  and  then, 
as  he  only  gazed  into  space  in  the  most  romantically  mel- 
ancholy fashion  and  made  no  answer,  she  asked  again 
very  timidly,  "  Wh — what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

Without  saying  a  word  Mr  Beveridge  bent  courteously 
and  offered  her  his  right  arm.  She  took  it  with  the 
most  delicious  trepidation,  glancing  round  hurriedly  to  see 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  27 

whether  the  Countess  noticed  her.  Another  dance  was 
just  beginning,  and  in  the  general  movement  her  mys- 
terious acquaintance  led  her  without  observation  to  a 
seat  in  the  window  of  a  corridor.  There  he  pressed  her 
hand  gently,  stroked  his  long  moustaches  for  a  minute, 
and  then  said,  with  an  air  of  reflection:  "There  are  three 
ways  of  making  a  woman  like  one.  I  am  slightly  out  of 
practice.  Would  you  be  kind  enough  to  suggest  a 
method  of  procedure?" 

Such  a  beginning  was  so  wholly  unexpected  that  Lady 
Alicia  could  only  give  a  little  gasp  of  consternation. 
Her  companion,  after  pausing  an  instant  for  a  reply, 
went  on  in  the  same  tone,  "  I  am  aware  that  I  have  begun 
well.  I  attracted  your  attention,  I  elicited  your  sympathy, 
and  I  pressed  your  hand;  but  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't 
remember  what  I  generally  do  next." 

Poor  Lady  Alicia,  who  had  come  with  a  bucketful  of 
sympathy  ready  to  be  gulped  down  by  this  unfortunate 
gentleman,  was  only  able  to  stammer,  "I — I  really  don't 
know,  Mr " 

"Hamilton,"  said  Mr  Beveridge,  unblushingly.  "At 
least  that  name  belongs  to  me  as  much  as  anything  can 
be  said  to  in  a  world  where  my  creditors  claim  my  money 
and  Dr  Congleton  my  person." 

"You  are  confined  and  poor,  you  mean?"  asked  Lady 
Alicia,  beginning  to  see  her  way  again. 

"Poor  and  confined,  to  put  them  in  their  proper  order, 
for  if  I  had  the  wherewithal  to  purchase  a  balloon  I  should 
certainly  cease  to  be  confined." 

His  admirer  found  it  hard  to  reply  adequately  to  this, 


28  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

and  Mr  Beveridge  continued,  "To  return  to  the  delicate 
subject  from  which  we  strayed,  what  would  you  like  me  to 
do, — put  my  arm  round  your  waist,  relate  my  troubles, 
or  turn  my  back  on  you  ?  " 

"Are — are  those  the  three  ways  you  spoke  of — to  make 
women  like  you,  I  mean?"  Lady  Alicia  ventured  to 
ask,  though  she  was  beginning  to  wish  the  sofa  was 
larger. 

"They  are  examples  of  the  three  classical  methods: 
cuddling,  humbugging,  and  piquing.  Which  do  you 
prefer  ?  " 

"Tell  me  about  your — your  troubles,"  she  answered, 
gaining  courage  a  little. 

"You  belong  to  the  sex  which  makes  no  mention  of 
figs  and  spades,"  he  rejoined;  "but  I  understand  you  to 
mean  that  you  prefer  humbugging." 

He  drew  a  long  face,  sighed  twice,  and  looking  tenderly 
into  Lady  Alicia's  blue  eyes,  began  in  a  gentle,  reminiscent 
voice,  "My  boyhood  was  troubled  and  unhappy:  no  kind 
words,  no  caresses.  I  was  beaten  by  a  cruel  stepfather, 
ignored  and  insulted  for  my  physical  deformities  by  a 
heartless  stepmother." 

He  stopped  to  sigh  again,  and  Lady  Alicia,  with  a  bold- 
ness that  surprised  herself,  and  a  perspicacity  that  would 
have  surprised  her  friends,  asked,  "How  could  they — 
I  mean,  were  they  both  step  ?  " 

"Several  steps,"  he  replied;  "in  fact,  quite  a  long 
journey." 

With  this  explanation  Lady  Alicia  was  forced  to  remain 
satisfied;  but  as  he  had  paused  a  second  time,  and  seemed 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  29 

to  be  immersed  in  the  study  of  his  shoes,  she  inquired 
again,  "You  spoke  of  physical  infirmities;  do  you 
mean ?  " 

"Deformities,"  he  corrected;  "up  to  the  age  of  fourteen 
years  I  could  only  walk  sideways,  and  my  hair  parted  in 
the  middle." 

He  spoke  so  seriously  that  these  unusual  maladies 
seemed  to  her  the  most  touching  misfortunes  she  had 
ever  heard  of.  She  murmured  gently,  "  Yes  ?  " 

"As  the  years  advanced,"  Mr  Beveridge  continued, 
"  and  I  became  more  nearly  the  same  weight  as  my  step- 
father, my  life  grew  happier.  It  was  decided  to  send  me 
to  college,  so  I  was  provided  with  an  insufficient  cheque, 
a  complete  set  of  plated  forks,  and  three  bath-towels, 
and  despatched  to  the  University  of  Oxford.  At  least 
I  think  that  was  the  name  of  the  corporation  which  took 
my  money  and  endeavoured  to  restrict  my  habits,  though, 
to  confess  the  truth,  my  memory  is  not  what  it  used  to  be. 
There  I  learned  wisdom  by  the  practice  of  folly — the 
most  amusing  and  effective  method.  My  tutor  used  to 
tell  me  I  had  some  originality.  I  apologised  for  its  pres- 
ence in  such  a  respectable  institution,  and  undertook 
to  pass  an  examination  instead.  I  believe  I  succeeded: 
I  certainly  remember  giving  a  dinner  to  celebrate  some- 
thing. Thereupon  at  my  own  expense  the  University 
inflicted  a  degree  upon  me,  but  I  was  shortly  afterwards 
compensated  by  the  death  of  my  uncle  and  my  accession 
to  his  estates.  Having  enjoyed  a  university  education, 
and  accordingly  possessing  a  corrected  and  regulated 
sentiment,  I  was  naturally  inconsolable  at  the  decease  of 


30  THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE 

this  venerable  relative,  who  for  so  long  had  shown  a 
kindly  interest  in  the  poor  orphan  lad." 

He  stopped  to  sigh  again,  and  Lady  Alicia  asked  with 
great  interest,  "But  your  step-parents,  you  always  had 
them,  hadn't  you  ?  " 

"Never!"  he  replied,  sadly. 

"Never?"  she  exclaimed  in  some  bewilderment. 

"  Certainly  not  often,"  he  answered,  **  and  oftener  than 
not,  never.  If  you  had  told  me  beforehand  you  wished 
to  hear  my  history,  I  should  have  pruned  my  family 
tree  into  a  more  presentable  shape.  But  if  you  will 
kindly  tell  me  as  I  go  along  which  of  my  relatives  you 
disapprove  of,  and  who  you  would  like  to  be  introduced, 
I  shall  arrange  the  plot  to  suit  you." 

"I  only  wish  to  hear  the  true  story,  Mr  Hamilton." 

"Fortescue,"  he  corrected.  "I  certainly  prefer  to  be 
called  by  one  name  at  a  time,  but  never  by  the  same 
twice  running." 

He  smiled  so  agreeably  as  he  said  this  that  Lady  Alicia, 
though  puzzled  and  a  little  hurt,  could  not  refrain  from 
smiling  back. 

"  Let  me  hear  the  rest,"  she  said. 

"It  is  no  truer  than  the  first  part,  but  quite  as  enter- 
taining. So,  if  you  like,  I  shall  endeavour  to  recall  the 
series  of  painful  episodes  that  brought  me  to  Clank- 
wood,"  he  answered,  very  seriously. 

Lady  Alicia  settled  herself  comfortably  into  one  corner  of 
the  sofa  and  prepared  to  feel  affected.  But  at  that  moment 
the  portly  form  of  Dr  Congleton  appeared  from  the  direction 
of  the  ballroom  with  a  still  more  portly  dowager  on  his  arm. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  31 

"My  mother!"  exclaimed  Lady  Alicia,  rising  quickly 
to  her  feet. 

"  Indeed  ? "  said  Mr  Beveridge,  who  still  kept  his  seat. 
"She  certainly  looks  handsome  enough." 

This  speech  made  Lady  Alicia  blush  very  becomingly, 
and  the  Countess  looked  at  her  sharply. 

"Where  have  you  been,  Alicia?" 

"The  room  was  rather  warm,  mamma,  and " 

"In  short,  madam,"  interrupted  Mr  Beveridge,  rising 
and  bowing,  "your  charming  daughter  wished  to  study 
a  lunatic  at  close  quarters.  I  am  mad,  and  I  obligingly 

raved.     Thus "     He  ran  one  hand  through  his  hair 

so  as  to  make  it  fall  over  his  eyes,  blew  out  his  cheeks, 
and  uttering  a  yell,  sprang  high  into  the  air,  and  descended 
in  a  sitting  posture  on  the  floor. 

"That,  madam,  is  a  very  common  symptom,"  he  ex- 
plained, with  a  smile,  smoothing  down  his  hair  again,  "  as 
our  friend  Dr  Congleton  will  tell  you." 

Both  the  doctor  and  the  Countess  were  too  astonished 
to  make  any  reply,  so  he  turned  again  to  Lady  Alicia, 
and  offering  his  arm,  said,  "  Let  me  lead  you  back  to  our 
fellow-fools." 

"  Is  he  safe  ?  "  whispered  the  Countess. 

"I — I  believe  so,"  replied  Dr  Congleton  in  some  con- 
fusion; "but  I  shall  have  him  watched  more  carefully." 

As  they  entered  the  room  Mr  Beveridge  whispered, 
"Will  you  meet  a  poor  lunatic  again?"  And  the  Lady 
Alicia  pressed  his  arm. 


32  THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE 


CHAPTER  IV. 

On  the  morning  after  the  dance  Dr  Congleton  sum- 
moned Dr  Escott  to  his  room. 

"Escott,"  he  began,  "we  must  keep  a  little  sharper 
eye  on  Mr  Beveridge." 

"Indeed,  sir?"  said  Escott;  "he  seems  to  me  harmless 
enough." 

"Nevertheless,  he  must  be  watched.  Lady  Grillyer 
was  considerably  alarmed  by  his  conduct  last  night, 
and  a  client  who  has  confided  so  many  of  her  relatives 
to  my  care  must  be  treated  with  the  greatest  regard.  I 
receive  pheasants  at  Christmas  from  no  fewer  than  four- 
teen families  of  title,  and  my  reputation  for  discretion 
is  too  valuable  to  be  risked.  When  Mr  Beveridge  is 
not  under  your  own  eyes  you  must  see  that  Moggridge 
always  keeps  him  in  sight." 

Accordingly  Moggridge,  a  burly  and  seasoned  attendant 
on  refractory  patients,  was  told  off  to  keep  an  unobtrusive 
eye  on  that  accomplished  gentleman.  His  duties  appeared 
light  enough,  for,  as  I  have  said,  Mr  Beveridge's  eccen- 
tricities had  hitherto  been  merely  of  the  most  playful 
nature. 

After  luncheon  on  this  same  day  he  gave  Escott  twelve 
breaks  and  a  beating  at  billiards,  and  then  having  bor- 
rowed and  approved  of  one  of  his  cigars,  he  strolled  into 
the  park.  If  he  intended  to  escape  observation,  he  cer- 
tainly showed  the  most  skilful  strategy,  for  he  dodged 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  33 

deviously  through  the  largest  trees,  and  at  last,  after  a 
roundabout  ramble,  struck  a  sheltered  walk  that  ran 
underneath  the  high,  glass-decked  outer  wall.  It  was 
a  sunny  winter  afternoon.  The  boughs  were  stripped, 
and  the  leaves  lay  littered  on  the  walk  or  flickered  and 
stirred  through  the  grass.  In  this  spot  the  high  trees 
stood  so  close  and  the  bare  branches  were  so  thick  that 
there  was  still  an  air  of  quiet  and  seclusion  where  he 
paced  and  smoked.  Every  now  and  then  he  stopped  and 
listened  and  looked  at  his  watch,  and  as  he  walked  back- 
wards and  forwards  an  amused  smile  would  come  and  go. 

All  at  once  he  heard  something  move  on  the  far  side 
of  the  wall :  he  paused  to  make  sure,  and  then  he  whistled, 
The  sounds  outside  ceased,  and  in  a  moment  something 
fell  softly  behind  him.  He  turned  quickly  and  snatched 
up  a  little  buttonhole  of  flowers  with  a  still  smaller  note 
tied  to  the  stems. 

"An  uncommonly  happy  idea,"  he  said  to  himself, 
looking  at  the  missive  with  the  air  of  one  versed  in  these 
matters.  Then  he  leisurely  proceeded  to  unfold  and  read 
the  note. 

"To  my  friend,"  he  read,  "if  I  may  call  you  a  friend, 
since  I  have  known  you  only  such  a  short  time — may  I? 
This  is  just  to  express  my  sympathy,  and  although  I 
cannot  express  it  well,  still  perhaps  you  will  forgive  my 
feeble  effort!!" 

At  this  point,  just  as  he  was  regarding  the  double 
mark  of  exclamation  with  reminiscent  entertainment,  a 
plaintive  voice  from  the  other  side  of  the  wall  cried  in  a 
stage  whisper,  "Have  you  got  it  ?" 


84  THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

Mr  Beveridge  composed  his  face,  and  heaving  his 
shoulders  to  his  ears  in  the  effort,  gave  vent  to  a  prodig- 
ious sigh. 

"A  million  thanks,  my  fairest  and  kindest  of  friends," 
he  answered  in  the  same  tone.  "I  read  it  now:  I  drink 
it  in,  I " 

He  kissed  the  back  of  his  hand  loudly  two  or  three 
times,  sighed  again,  and  continued  his  reading. 

"I  wish  I  could  help  you,"  it  ran,  "but  I  am  afraid  I 
cannot,  as  the  world  is  so  censorious,  is  it  not?  So  you 
must  accept  a  friend's  sympathy  if  it  does  not  seem  to 
you  too  bold  and  forward  of  her!  !  !  Perhaps  we  may 
meet  again,  as  I  sometimes  go  to  Clankwood.  Au 
revoir. — Your  sympathetic  well-wisher.  A.  A.  F." 

He  folded  it  up  and  put  it  in  his  waistcoat-pocket, 
then  he  exclaimed  in  an  audible  aside,  his  voice  shaking 
with  the  most  affecting  thrill,  "Perhaps  we  may  meet 
again!  Only  perhaps!  O  Alicia!"  And  then  drop- 
ping again  into  a  stage  whisper,  he  asked,  "Are  you  still 
there,  Lady  Alicia?" 

A  timorous  voice  replied,  "Yes,  Mr  Fortescue.  But  I 
really  must  go  now!" 

"Now?    So  soon?" 

"I  have  stayed  too  long  already." 

"  'Tis  better  to  have  stayed  too  long  than  never  to  wear 
stays  at  all,"  replied  Mr  Beveridge. 

There  was  no  response  for  a  moment.  Then  a  low 
voice,  a  little  hurt  and  a  good  deal  puzzled,  asked  with 
evident  hesitation,  "What — what  did  you  say,  Mr 
Fortescue?" 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  35 

"I  said  that  Lady  Alicia's  stay  cannot  be  too  long," 
he  answered,  softly. 

"  But — but  what  good  can  I  be  ?  " 

"The  good  you  cannot  help  being." 

There  was  another  moment's  pause,  then  the  voice 
whispered,  "I  don't  quite  understand  you." 

"My  Alicia  understands  me  not!"  Mr  Beveridge 
soliloquised  in  another  audible  aside.  Aloud,  or  rather 
in  a  little  lower  tone,  he  answered,  "I  am  friendless, 
poor,  and  imprisoned.  What  is  the  good  in  your  staying  ? 
Ah,  Lady  Alicia!  But  why  should  I  detain  you?  Go, 
fair  friend!  Go  and  forget  poor  Francis  Beveridge!" 

There  came  a  soft,  surprised  answer,  "Francis  Bever- 
idge?" 

"Alas!  you  have  guessed  my  secret.  Yes,  that  is  the 
name  of  the  unhappiest  of  mortals." 

As  he  spoke  these  melancholy  words  he  threw  away 
the  stump  of  his  cigar,  took  another  from  his  case,  and 
bit  off  the  end. 

The  voice  replied,  "I  shall  remember  it — among  my 
friends." 

Mr  Beveridge  struck  a  match. 

"H'sh!    Whatever  is  that?"  cried  the  voice  in  alarm. 

"A  heart  breaking,"  he  replied,  lighting  his  cigar. 

"Don't  talk  like  that,"  said  the  voice.  "It— it  dis- 
tresses me."  There  was  a  break  in  the  voice. 

"And,  alas!  between  distress  and  consolation  there 
are  fifteen  perpendicular  feet  of  stone  and  mortar  and 
the  relics  of  twelve  hundred  bottles  of  Bass,"  he  re- 
plied. 


36  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

"Perhaps," — the  voice  hesitated — "perhaps  we  may 
see  each  other  some  day." 

"Say  to-morrow  at  four  o'clock,"  he  suggested,  perti- 
nently. "If  you  could  manage  to  be  passing  up  the 
drive  at  that  hour." 

There  was  another  pause. 

"  Perhaps "  the  voice  began. 

At  that  moment  he  heard  the  sharp  crack  of  a  branch 
behind  him,  and  turning  instantly  he  spied  the  uncom- 
promising countenance  of  Moggridge  peering  round  a 
tree  about  twenty  paces  distant.  Lack  of  presence  of 
mind  and  quick  decision  were  not  amongst  Mr  Bever- 
idge's  failings.  He  struck  a  theatrical  attitude  at  once, 
and  began  in  a  loud  voice,  gazing  up  at  the  tops  of  the 
trees,  "He  comes!  A  stranger  comes!  Yes,  my  fair 
friend,  we  may  meet  again.  Au  revoir,  but  only  for  a 
while!  Ah,  that  a  breaking  heart  should  be  lit  for  a 
moment  and  then  the  lamp  be  put  out!" 

Meanwhile  Moggridge  was  walking  towards  him. 

"Ha,  Moggridge!"  he  cried.     "Good  day." 

"  Time  you  was  goin'  in,  sir,"  said  Moggridge,  stolidly ; 
and  to  himself  he  muttered,  "He's  crackeder  than  I 
thought,  a-shoutin'  and  a-ravin'  to  hisself.  Just  as  well 
I  kept  a  heye  on  'im." 

Like  most  clever  people,  Mr  Beveridge  generally  fol- 
lowed the  line  of  least  resistance.  He  slipped  his  arm 
through  his  attendant's,  shouted  a  farewell  apparently 
to  some  imaginary  divinity  overhead,  and  turned  towards 
the  house. 

"This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,"  he  remarked. 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  37 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Moggridge. 

"Funny  thing  your  turning  up.  Out  for  a  walk,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"For  a  stroll,  sir — that's  to  say- "  he  stopped. 

"That  on  these  chilly  afternoons  the  dear  good  doctor 
is  afraid  of  my  health  ?  " 

"That's  kind  o'  it,  sir." 

"But  of  course  I'm  not  supposed  to  notice  anything, 
eh?" 

Moggridge  looked  a  trifle  uncomfortable  and  was  dis- 
creetly silent.  Mr  Beveridge  smiled  at  his  own  per- 
spicacity, and  then  began  in  the  most  friendly  tone, 
"Well,  I  feel  flattered  that  so  stout  a  man  has  been  told 
off  to  take  care  of  me.  What  an  arm  you've  got,  man." 

"Pretty  fair,  sir,"  said  Moggridge,  complacently. 

"And  I  am  thankful,  too,"  continued  Mr  Beveridge, 
"that  you're  a  man  of  some  sense.  There  are  a  lot  of 
fools  in  the  world,  Moggridge,  and  I'm  somewhat  of  an 
epicure  in  the  matter  of  heads." 

"Mine  'as  been  considered  pretty  sharp,"  Moggridge 
admitted,  with  a  gratified  relaxation  of  his  wooden  coun- 
tenance. 

"Have  a  cigar?"  his  patient  asked,  taking  out  his 
case. 

"Thank  you,  sir,  I  don't  mind  if  I  do." 

"  You  will  find  it  a  capital  smoke.  I  don't  throw  them 
away  on  every  one." 

Moggridge,  completely  thawed,  lit  his  cigar  and  slack- 
ened his  pace,  for  such  frank  appreciation  of  his  merits 
was  rare  in  a  critical  world. 


38  THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE 

"You  can  perhaps  believe,  Moggridge,"  said  Mr 
Beveridge,  reflectively,  "that  one  doesn't  often  have  the 
chance  of  talking  confidentially  to  a  man  of  sense  in 
Clankwood." 

"No,  sir,  I  should  himagine  not." 

"And  so  one  has  sometimes  to  talk  to  oneself." 

This  was  said  so  sadly  that  Moggridge  began  to  feel 
uncomfortably  affected. 

"Ah,  Moggridge,  one  cannot  always  keep  silence, 
even  when  one  least  wants  to  be  overheard.  Have  you 
ever  been  in  love,  Moggridge?" 

The  burly  keeper  changed  countenance  a  little  at  this 
embarrassingly  direct  question,  and  answered  diffidently, 
"Well,  sir,  to  be  sure  men  is  men  and  woming  will  be 
woming." 

"The  deuce,  they  will!"  replied  Mr  Beveridge,  cor- 
dially; "and  it's  rather  hard  to  forget  'em,  eh?" 

"Hindeed  it  is,  sir." 

"I  remembered  this  afternoon,  but  I  should  .like  you 
as  a  good  chap  to  forget.  You  won't  mention  my  moment 
of  weakness,  Moggridge  ?  " 

"No,  sir,"  said  Moggridge,  stoutly.  "I  suppose  I 
bought  to  report  what  I  sees,  but  I  won't  this  time." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mr  Beveridge,  pressing  his  arm. 
"I  had,  you  know,  a  touch  of  the  sun  in  India,  and  I 
sometimes  talk  when  I  shouldn't.  Though,  after  all, 
that  isn't  a  very  uncommon  complaint." 

And  so  it  happened  that  no  rumour  prejudicial  either 
to  his  sanity  or  to  the  progress  of  his  friendship  with  the 
Lady  Alicia  reached  the  ears  of  the  authorities. 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  39 


CHAPTER  V. 

Towards  four  o'clock  on  the  following  afternoon  Mr 
Beveridge  and  Moggridge  were  walking  leisurely  down 
the  long  drive  leading  from  the  mansion  of  Clankwood 
to  the  gate  that  opened  on  the  humdrum  outer  world. 
Finding  that  an  inelastic  matter  of  yards  was  all  the 
tether  he  could  hope  for,  Mr  Beveridge  thought  it  best 
to  take  the  bull  by  the  horns,  and  make  a  companion  of 
this  necessity.  So  he  kept  his  attendant  by  his  side, 
and  regaled  him  for  some  time  with  a  series  of  improbable 
reminiscences  and  tolerable  cigars,  till  at  last,  round  a 
bend  of  the  avenue,  a  lady  on  horseback  came  into  view. 
As  she  drew  a  little  nearer  he  stopped  with  an  air  of  great 
surprise  and  pleasure. 

"I  believe,  Moggridge,  that  must  be  Lady  Alicia  a 
Fyre ! ".  he  exclaimed. 

"  It  looks  huncommon  like  her,  sir,"  replied  Moggridge. 

"I  must  really  speak  to  her.  She  was" — and  Mr 
Beveridge  assumed  his  inimitable  air  of  manly  senti- 
ment— "  she  was  one  of  my  poor  mother's  dearest  friends. 
Do  you  mind,  Moggridge,  falling  behind  a  little?  In 
fact,  if  you  could  step  behind  a  tree  and  wait  here  for 
me,  it  would  be  pleasanter  for  us  both.  We  used  to 
meet  under  happier  circumstances,  and,  don't  you  know, 
it  might  distress  her  to  be  reminded  of  my  misfortunes." 

Such  a  reasonable  request,  beseechingly  put  by  so  fine 
a  gentleman,  could  scarcely  be  refused.  Moggridge  re- 


40  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

tired  behind  the  trees  that  lined  the  avenue,  and  Mr 
Beveridge  advanced  alone  to  meet  the  Lady  Alicia. 
She  blushed  very  becomingly  as  he  raised  his  hat. 

"I  hardly  expected  to  see  you  to-day,  Mr  Beveridge," 
she  bjgan. 

"  I,  on  the  other  hand,  have  been  thinking  of  nothing 
else,"  he  replied. 

She  blushed  still  deeper,  but  responded  a  little  reprov- 
ingly, "It's  very  polite  of  you  to  say  so,  but " 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  he.  "I  have  a  dozen  equally  well- 
turned  sentences  at  my  disposal,  and,  they  tell  me,  a 
most  deluding  way  of  saying  them." 

Suddenly  out  of  her  depth  again,  poor  Lady  Alicia 
could  only  strike  out  at  random. 

"  Who  tell  you  ?  "  she  managed  to  say. 

"  First,  so  far  as  my  poor  memory  goes,  my  mother's 
lady's-maid  informed  me  of  the  fact;  then  I  think  my  sister's 
governess,"  he  replied,  ticking  off  his  informants  on  his 
fingers  with  a  half-abstracted  air.  "After  that  came  a 
number  of  more  or  less  reliable  individuals,  and  lastly 
the  Lady  Alicia  a  Fyre." 

"  Me  ?    I'm  sure  I  never  said " 

"None  of  them  ever  said"  he  interrupted. 

"But  what  have  I  done,  then?"  she  asked,  tightening 
her  reins,  and  making  her  horse  fidget  a  foot  or  two  farther 
away. 

"You  have  begun  to  be  a  most  adorable  friend  to  a 
most  unfortunate  man." 

Still  Lady  Alicia  looked  at  him  a  little  dubiously,  and 
only  said,  "I — I  hope  I'm  not  too  friendly." 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  41 

"  There  are  no  degrees  in  friendly,"  he  replied.  '*  There 
are  only  aloofly,  friendly,  and  more  than  friendly." 

"I — I  think  I  ought  to  be  going  on,  Mr  Beveridge." 

That  experienced  diplomatist  perceived  that  it  was 
necessary  to  further  embellish  himself. 

"  Are  you  fond  of  soldiers  ?  "  he  asked,  abruptly. 

"I  beg  your  pardon?"  she  said  in  considerable  be- 
wilderment. 

"  Does  a  red  coat,  a  medal,  and  a  brass  band  appeal  to 
you  ?  Are  you  apt  to  be  interested  in  her  Majesty's  army  ?  " 

"I  generally  like  soldiers,"  she  admitted,  still  much 
surprised  at  the  turn  the  conversation  had  taken. 

"Then  I  was  a  soldier." 

"But— really?" 

"I  held  a  commission  in  one  of  the  crackest  cavalry 
regiments,"  he  began  dramatically,  and  yet  with  a  great 
air  of  sincerity.  "I  was  considered  one  of  the  most 
promising  officers  in  the  mess.  It  nearly  broke  my  heart 
to  leave  the  service." 

He  turned  away  his  head.  Lady  Alicia  was  visibly 
affected. 

"I  am  so  sorry!"  she  murmured. 

Still  keeping  his  face  turned  away,  he  held  out  his 
hand  and  she  pressed  it  gently. 

"Sorrow  cannot  give  me  my  freedom,"  he  said. 

"If  there  is  anything  I  can  do "  she  began. 

"Dismount,"  he  said,  looking  up  at  her  tenderly. 

"Lady  Alicia  never  quite  knew  how  it  happened, 
but  certainly  she  found  herself  standing  on  the  ground, 
and  the  next  moment  Mr  Beveridge  was  in  her  place. 


42  THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE 

"An  old  soldier,"  he  exclaimed,  gaily;  "I  can't  resist 
the  temptation  of  having  a  canter."  And  with  that  he 
started  at  a  gallop  towards  the  gate. 

With  a  blasphemous  ejaculation  Moggridge  sprang 
from  behind  his  tree,  and  set  off  down  the  drive  in  hot 
pursuit. 

Lady  Alicia  screamed,  "Stop!  stop!  Francis — I  mean, 
Mr  Beveridge;  stop,  please!" 

But  the  favorite  of  the  crack  regiment,  despite  the 
lady's  saddle,  sat  his  steed  well,  and  rapidly  left  cries 
and  footsteps  far.  behind.  The  lodge  was  nearly  half  a 
mile  away,  and  as  the  avenue  wound  between  palisades 
of  old  trees,  the  shouts  became  muffled,  and  when  he 
looked  over  his  shoulder  he  saw  in  the  stretch  behind  him 
no  sign  of  benefactress  or  pursuer.  By  continued  ex- 
hortations and  the  point  of  his  penknife  he  kept  his  horse 
at  full  stretch;  round  the  next  bend  he  knew  he  should 
see  the  gates. 

"Five  to  one  on  the  blank  things  being  shut,"  he 
muttered. 

He  swept  round  the  curve,  and  there  ahead  of  him  he 
saw  the  gates  grimly  closed,  and  at  the  lodge  door  a  dis- 
mounted groom,  standing  beside  his  horse. 

Only  remarking  "Damn!"  he  reined  up,  turned, 
and  trotted  quietly  back  again.  Presently  he  met  Mog- 
gridge, red  in  the  face,  muddy  as  to  his  trousers,  and 
panting  hard. 

"Nice  little  nag  this,  Moggridge,"  he  remarked,  airily. 

"Nice  sweat  you've  give  me,"  rejoined  his  attendant, 
wrathfully. 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  43 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you  ran  after  me?" 

"I  does  mean  to  say,"  Moggridge  replied  grimly, 
seizing  the  reins. 

"Want  to  lead  him?  Very  well — it  makes  us  look 
quite  like  the  Derby  winner  coming  in." 

"Derby  loser  you  means,  thanks  to  them  gates  bein' 
shut." 

"Gates  shut?  Were  they?  I  didn't  happen  to 
notice." 

"No,  o'  course  not,"  said  Moggridge,  sarcastically; 
"that  there  sunstroke  you  got  in  India  prevented  you,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"Have  a  cigar?" 

To  this  overture  Moggridge  made  no  reply.  Mr 
Beveridge  laughed  and  continued  lightly,  "I  had  no 
idea  you  were  so  fond  of  exercise.  I'd  have  given  you 
a  lead  all  round  the  park  if  I'd  known." 

"You'd  'ave  given  me  a  lead  all  round  the  county  if 
them  gates  'ad  been  open." 

"  It  might  have  been  difficult  to  stop  this  fiery  animal," 
Mr  Beveridge  admitted.  "  But  now,  Moggridge,  the  run 
is  over.  I  think  I  can  take  Lady  Alicia's  horse  back  to 
her  myself." 

Moggridge  smiled  grimly. 

"You  won't  let  go?" 

"No  fears." 

Mr  Beveridge  put  his  hand  behind  his  back  and  silently 
drove  the  penknife  a  quarter  of  an  inch  into  his  mount's 
hind  quarters.  In  an  instant  his  keeper  felt  himself 
being  lifted  nearly  off  his  feet,  and  in  another  actually 


44  THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

deposited  on  his  face.  Off  went  the  accomplished  horse- 
man again  at  top  speed,  but  this  time  back  to  Lady  Alicia. 
He  saw  her  standing  by  the  side  of  the  drive,  her  hand- 
kerchief to  her  eyes,  a  penitent  and  disconsolate  little 
figure.  When  she  heard  him  coming,  she  dried  her  eyes 
and  looked  up,  but  her  face  was  still  tearful. 

"Well,  I  am  back  from  my  ride,"  he  remarked  in  a 
perfectly  usual  voice,  dismounting  as  he  spoke. 

"  The  man ! "  she  cried,  "  where  is  that  dreadful  man  ?  " 

"  What  man  ? "  he  asked  in  some  surprise. 

"The  man  who  chased  you." 

Mr  Beveridge  laughed  aloud,  at  which  Lady  Alicia 
took  fresh  refuge  in  her  handkerchief. 

"He  follows  on  foot,"  he  replied. 

"Did  he  catch  you?  Oh,  why  didn't  you  escape 
altogether?"  she  sobbed. 

Mr  Beveridge  looked  at  her  with  growing  interest. 

"I  had  begun  to  forget  my  petticoat  psychology,"  he 
reflected  (aloud,  after  his  unconventional  fashion). 

"Oh,  here  he  comes,"  she  shuddered.  "All  blood! 
Oh,  what  have  you  done  to  him?" 

"On  my  honour,  nothing, — I  merely  haven't  washed 
his  face." 

By  this  time  Moggridge  was  coming  close  upon  them. 

"  You  won't  forget  a  poor  soldier  ?  "  said  Mr  Beveridge 
in  a  lower  voice. 

There  was  no  reply. 

"A  poor  soldier,"  he  added,  with  a  sigh,  glancing  at 
her  from  the  corner  of  his  eye.  "So  poor  that  even  if 
I  had  got  out,  I  could  only  have  ridden  till  I  dropped." 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  45 

"Would  you  accept ?"  she  began,  timidly. 

"  What  day  ?  "  he  interrupted,  hurriedly. 

"Tuesday,"  she  hesitated. 

"Four  o'clock,  again.  Same  place  as  before.  When 
I  whistle  throw  it  over  at  once." 

Before  they  had  time  to  say  more,  Moggridge,  blood- 
and  gravel-stained,  came  up. 

"It's  all  right,  miss,"  he  said,  coming  between  them; 
"I'll  see  that  he  plays  no  more  of  'is  tricks.  There's 
nothin'  to  be  afrightened  of." 

"Stand  back!"  she  cried;  "don't  come  near  me!" 

Moggridge  was  too  staggered  at  this  outburst  to  say 
a  word. 

"Stand  away!"  she  said,  and  the  bewildered  attendant 
stood  away.  She  turned  to  Mr  Beveridge. 

"Now,  will  you  help  me  up?" 

She  mounted  lightly,  said  a  brief  farewell,  and,  for- 
getting all  about  the  call  at  Clankwood  she  had  ostensibly 
come  to  pay,  turned  her  horse's  head  towards  the  lodge. 

"Well,  I'm  blowed!"  said  Moggridge. 

"They  do  blow  one,"  his  patient  assented. 

Naturally  enough  the  story  of  this  equestrian  adventure 
soon  ran  through  Clankwood.  The  exact  particulars, 
however,  were  a  little  hard  to  collect,  for  while  Mog- 
gridge supplied  many  minute  and  picturesque  details, 
illustrating  his  own  activity  and  presence  of  mind  and 
the  imminent  peril  of  the  Lady  Alicia,  Mr  Beveridge  re- 
counted an  equally  vivid  story  of  a  runaway  horse  re- 
covered by  himself  to  its  fair  owner's  unbounded  grati- 
tude. Official  opinion  naturally  accepted  the  official 


46  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

account,  and  for  the  next  few  days  Mr  Beveridge  became 
an  object  of  considerable  anxiety  and  mistrust. 

"I  can't  make  the  man  out,"  said  Sherlaw  to  Escott. 
"  I  had  begun  to  think  there  was  nothing  much  the  matter 
with  him." 

"No  more  there  is,"  replied  Escott.  "His  memory 
seems  to  me  to  have  suffered  from  something,  and  he 
simply  supplies  its  place  in  conversation  from  his  imagina- 
tion, and  in  action  from  the  inspiration  of  the  moment. 
The  methods  of  society  are  too  orthodox  for  such  an 
aberration,  and  as  his  friends  doubtless  pay  a  handsome 
fee  to  keep  him  here,  old  Congers  labels  him  mad  and 
locks  the  door  on  him." 

A  day  or  two  afterwards  official  opinion  was  a  little 
disturbed.  Lady  Alicia,  in  reply  to  anxious  inquiries, 
gave  a  third  version  of  the  adventure,  from  which  nothing 
in  particular  could  be  gathered  except  that  nothing  in 
particular  had  happened. 

"What  do  you  make  of  this,  Escott?"  asked  Dr  Con- 
gleton,  laying  her  note  before  his  assistant. 

"Merely  that  a  woman  wrote  it." 

"Hum!    I  suppose  that  is  the  explanation." 

Upon  which  the  doctor  looked  profound  and  went  to 
lunch. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

"Two  five-pound  notes,  half-a-sovereign,  and  seven 
and  sixpence  in  silver,"  said  Mr  Beveridge  to  himself. 
"Ah,  and  a  card." 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  47 

On  the  card  was  written,  "From  a  friend,  if  you  will 
accept  it.  A." 

He  was  standing  under  the  wall,  in  the  secluded  walk, 
holding  a  little  lady's  purse  in  his  hand,  and  listening 
to  two  different  footsteps.  One  little  pair  of  feet  were 
hurrying  away  on  the  farther  side  of  the  high  wall,  another 
and  larger  were  approaching  him  at  a  run. 

"Wot's  he  bin  up  to  now,  I  wonder,"  Moggridge 
panted  to  himself — for  the  second  pair  of  feet  belonged 
to  him.  "Shamming  nose-bleed  and  sending  me  in 
for  an  'andkerchief,  and  then  sneaking  off  here  by 
'isself!" 

"What  a  time  you've  been,"  said  Mr  Beveridge,  slip- 
ping the  purse  with  its  contents  into  his  pocket.  "I  was 
so  infernally  cold  I  had  to  take  a  little  walk.  Got  the 
handkerchief  ?  " 

In  silence  and  with  a  suspicious  solemnity  Moggridge 
handed  him  the  handkerchief,  and  they  turned  back  for 
the  house. 

"  Now  for  a  balloon,"  Mr  Beveridge  reflected. 

Certainly  it  was  cold.  The  frost  nipped  sharp  that 
night,  and  next  morning  there  were  ice  gardens  on  the 
windows,  and  the  park  lay  white  all  through  the  winter 
sunshine. 

By  evening  the  private  lake  was  reported  to  be  bear- 
ing, and  the  next  day  it  hummed  under  the  first  skaters. 
Hardly  necessary  to  say  Mr  Beveridge  was  among  the 
earliest  of  them,  or  that  he  was  at  once  the  object  of 
general  admiration  and  envy.  He  traced  "vines"  and 
"Q's,"  and  performed  wonderful  feats  on  one  leg  all 


48  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

morning.  At  lunch  he  was  in  the  best  of  spirits,  and  was 
off  again  at  once  to  the  ice. 

When  he  reached  the  lake  in  the  afternoon  the  first 
person  he  spied  was  Lady  Alicia,  and  five  minutes  after- 
wards they  were  sailing  off  together  hand  in  hand. 

"I  knew  you  would  come  to-day,"  he  remarked. 

"How  could  you  have  known?  It  was  by  the  merest 
chance  I  happened  to  come." 

"It  has  always  been  by  the  merest  chance  that  any 
of  them  have  ever  come." 

"Who  have  ever  come?"  she  inquired,  with  a  vague 
feeling  that  he  had  said  something  he  ought  not  to  have, 
and  that  she  was  doing  the  same. 

"  Many  things,"  he  smiled,  "  including  purses.  Which 
reminds  me  that  I  am  eternally  your  debtor." 

She  blushed  and  said,  "I  hope  you  didn't  mind." 

"Not  much,"  he  answered,  candidly.  "In  my  present 
circumstances  a  five-pound  note  is  more  acceptable  than 
a  caress." 

The  Lady  Alicia  again  remembered  the  maidenly 
proprieties,  and  tried  to  change  the  subject. 

"What  beautiful  ice!"  she  said. 

"The  question  now  is,"  he  continued,  paying  no  heed 
to  this  diversion,  "  what  am  I  to  do  next  ?  " 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked  a  little  faintly, 
realising  dimly  that  she  was  being  regarded  as  a  fellow- 
conspirator  in  some  unlawful  project. 

"The  wall  is  high,  there  is  bottle-glass  on  the  top,  and 
I  shall  find  it  hard  to  bring  away  a  fresh  pair  of  trousers, 
and  probably  draughty  if  I  don't.  The  gates  are  always 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  49 

kept  closed,  and  it  isn't  worth  any  one's  while  to  open 
them  for  £10,  17s.  6d.,  less  the  price  of  a  first-class  ticket 
up  to  town.  What  are  we  to  do  ?  " 

"  We  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"You  and  I,"  he  explained. 

"But — but  I  can't  possibly  do  anything." 

"'Can't  possibly'  is  a  phrase  I  have  learned  to  mis- 
understand." 

"Really,  Mr  Beveridge,  I  mustn't  do  anything." 

"Mustn't  is  an  invariable  preface  to  a  sin.  Never 
use  it;  it's  a  temptation  in  itself." 

"It  wouldn't  be  right,"  she  said,  with  quite  a  show  of 
firmness. 

He  looked  at  her  a  little  curiously.  For  a  moment  he 
almost  seemed  puzzled.  Then  he  pressed  her  hand  and 
asked  tenderly,  "Why  not?" 

And  in  a  half-audible  aside  he  added,  "That's  the 
correct  move,  I  think." 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  said,  'Why  not?'"  he  answered,  with  increasing 
tenderness. 

"  But  you  said  something  else." 

"  I  added  a  brief  prayer  for  pity." 

Lady  Alicia  sighed  and  repeated  a  little  less  firmly. 
"  It  wouldn't  be  right  of  me,  Mr  Beveridge." 

"  But  what  would  be  wrong  ?  " 

This  was  said  with  even  more  fervour. 

"  My  conscience — we  are  very  particular,  you  know." 

"Who  are  'we'?" 

"Papa  is  very  strict  High  Church." 


50  THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE 

An  idea  seemed  to  strike  Mr  Beveridge,  for  he  rumi- 
nated in  silence. 

"I  asked  Mr  Candles — our  curate,  you  know,"  Lady 
Alicia  continued,  with  a  heroic  effort  to  make  her  position 
clear. 

"You  told  him!"  he  exclaimed. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  say  who  it  was — I  mean  what  it  was  I 
thought  of  doing — I  mean  the  temptation — that  is,  the 
possibility.  And  he  said  it  was  very  kind  of  me  to  think 
of  it;  but  I  mustn't  do  anything,  and  he  advised  me  to 
read  a  book  he  gave  me,  and — and  I  mustn't  think  of 
it,  really,  Mr  Beveridge." 

To  himself  Mr  Beveridge  repeated  under  his  breath, 
"Archbishops,  bishops,  deacons,  curates,  fast  in  Lent, 
and  an  anthem  after  the  Creed.  I  think  I  remember 
enough  to  pass." 

Then  he  assumed  a  very  serious  face,  and  said  aloud, 
"Your  scruples  do  your  heart  credit.  They  have  given 
me  an  insight  into  your  deep  and  sweet  character,  which 
emboldens  me  to  make  a  confession." 

He  stopped  skating,  folded  his  arms,  and  continued 
unblushingly,  "I  was  educated  for  the  Church,  but 
the  prejudices  of  my  parents,  the  immature  scepticism 
of  youth,  and  some  uncertainty  about  obtaining  my 
archbishopric,  induced  me  in  an  unfortunate  moment, 
which  I  never  ceased  to  bitterly  regret,  to  quit  my 
orders." 

"You  are  in  orders?"  she  exclaimed. 

"I  was  in  several.  I  cancelled  them,  and  entered  the 
Navy  instead." 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  51 

"The  Navy?"  she  asked,  excusably  bewildered  by 
these  rapid  changes  of  occupation. 

"For  five  years  I  was  never  ashore." 

"But,"  she  hesitated — "but  you  said  you  were  in  the 
Army." 

Mr  Beveridge  gave  her  a  look  full  of  benignant  compas- 
sion that  made  her,  she  did  not  quite  know  why,  feel  ter- 
ribly abashed. 

"  My  regiment  was  quartered  at  sea,"  he  condescended 
to  explain.  "But  in  time  my  conscience  awoke.  I 
announced  my  intention  of  resuming  my  charge.  My 
uncle  was  furious.  My  enemies  were  many.  I  was 
seized,  thrown  into  this  prison-house,  and  now  my  only 
friend  fails  me." 

They  were  both  silent.  She  ventured  once  to  glance 
up  at  his  face,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  his  eyes  were 
moist — though  perhaps  it  was  that  her  own  were  a  little 
dim. 

"Let  us  skate  on,"  he  said  abruptly,  with  a  fine  air  of 
resignation. 

"By  the  way,"  he  suddenly  added,  "I  was  extremely 
High  Church,  in  fact  almost  freezingly  high." 

For  five  minutes  they  skated  in  silence,  then  Lady 
Alicia  began  softly,  "  Supposing  you — you  went  away " 

"  What  is  the  use  of  talking  of  it  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  melo- 
dramatically. "  Let  me  forget  my  short-lived  hopes ! " 

"You  have  a  friend,"  she  said,  slowly. 

"A  friend  who  tantalises  me  by  'supposings'!" 

"But  supposing  you  did,  Mr  Beveridge,  would  you 
go  back  to  your — did  you  say  you  had  a  parish  ?  " 


52  THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE 

"I  had:  a  large,  populous,  and  happy  parish.  It  is 
my  one  dream  to  sit  once  more  on  its  council  and  direct 
my  curate." 

"Of  course  that  makes  a  difference.  Mr  Candles 
didn't  know  all  this." 

They  had  come  by  this  time  to  the  corner  of  a  little 
island  that  lay  not  far  from  the  shore;  in  the  channel 
ahead  a  board  labelled  "Danger"  marked  a  hidden 
spring;  behind  them  the  shining  ice  was  almost  bare  of 
skaters,  for  all  but  Dr  Escott  seemed  to  be  leaving;  on 
the  bank  they  could  see  Moggridge  prowling  about  in 
the  gathering  dusk,  a  vigilant  reminder  of  captivity. 
Mr  Beveridge  took  the  whole  scene  in  with,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  a  militant  rather  than  an  episcopal  eye.  Then 
he  suddenly  asked,  "  Are  you  alone  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"You  drive  back?" 

"Ye-es." 

He  took  out  his  watch  and  made  a  brief  calculation. 

"Go  now,  call  at  Clankwood  or  do  anything  else  you 
like,  and  pass  down  the  drive  again  at  a  quarter  to  five." 

This  sudden  pinning  of  her  irresolution  almost  took 
Lady  Alicia's  breath  away. 

"But  I  never  said "  she  began. 

"My  dear  friend,"  he  interrupted,  "in  the  hour  of 
action  only  a  fool  ever  says.  Come  on." 

And  while  she  still  hesitated  they  were  off  again. 

"But "  she  tried  to  expostulate. 

"My  dearest  friend,"  he  whispered,  "and  my  dear 
old  vicarage!" 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  53 

He  gave  her  no  time  to  protest.  Her  skates  were  off, 
she  was  on  her  way  to  her  carriage,  and  he  was  striking 
out  again  for  the  middle  of  the  lake  before  she  had  time 
to  collect  her  wits. 

He  took  out  his  watch  and  looked  at  the  time.  It 
was  nearly  a  quarter-past  four.  Then  he  came  up  to 
Escott,  who  by  this  time  was  the  only  other  soul  on  the  ice. 

"About  time  we  were  going  in,"  said  Escott. 

"Give  me  half-an-hour  more.  I'll  show  you  how  to 
do  that  vine  you  admired." 

"All  right,"  assented  the  doctor. 

A  minute  or  two  later  Mr  Beveridge,  as  if  struck  by 
a  sudden  reflection,  exclaimed,  "By  Jove,  there's  that 
poor  devil  Moggridge  freezing  to  death  on  shore.  Can't 
you  manage  to  look  after  so  dangerous  a  lunatic  your- 
self ?  It  is  his  tea-time,  too." 

"Hallo,  so  he  is,"  replied  Escott;  "I'll  send  him  up." 

And  so  there  were  only  left  the  two  men  on  the  ice. 

For  a  little  the  lesson  went  on,  and  presently,  leaving 
the  doctor  to  practise,  Mr  Beveridge  skated  away  by 
himself.  He  first  paused  opposite  a  seat  on  the  bank 
over  which  hung  Dr  Escott's  great  fur  coat.  This 
spectacle  appeared  to  afford  him  peculiar  pleasure. 
Then  he  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  half-past  four. 
He  shut  the  watch  with  a  click,  threw  a  glance  at  his 
pupil,  and  struck  out  for  the  island.  If  the  doctor  had 
been  looking,  he  might  have  seen  him  round  it  hi  the 
gloaming. 

Dr  Escott,  leaning  far  on  his  outside  edge,  met  him 
as  he  returned. 


54  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"  What's  that  under  your  coat  ?  "  he  asked. 

"A  picture  I  intend  to  ask  your  opinion  on  presently," 
replied  Mr  Beveridge;  and  he  added,  with  his  most 
charming  air,  "But  now,  before  we  go  in,  let  me  give 
you  a  ride  on  one  of  these  chairs,  doctor." 

They  started  off,  the  pace  growing  faster  and  faster, 
and  presently  Dr  Escott  saw  that  they  were  going  behind 
the  island. 

"  Look  out  for  the  spring ! "  he  cried. 

"It  must  be  bearing  now,"  replied  Mr  Beveridge, 
striking  out  harder  than  ever;  "they  have  taken  away 
the  board." 

"All  right,"  said  the  doctor,  "on  you  go." 

As  he  spoke  he  felt  a  violent  push,  and  the  chair,  slew- 
ing round  as  it  went,  flew  on  its  course  unguided.  Mr 
Beveridge's  skates  rasped  on  the  ice  with  a  spray  of 
white  powder  as  he  stopped  himself  suddenly.  Ahead 
of  him  there  was  a  rending  crack,  and  Dr  Escott  and  his 
chair  disappeared.  Mr  Beveridge  laughed  cheerfully, 
and  taking  from  under  his  coat  a  board  with  the  legend 
"Danger"  printed  in  large  characters  across  its  face, 
he  placed  it  beside  the  jagged  hole. 

"Here  is  the  picture,  doctor,"  he  said,  as  a  dripping, 
gasping  head  came  up  for  the  second  time.  "I  must 
ask  a  thousand  pardons  for  this — shall  I  say,  liberty? 
But,  as  you  know,  I'm  off  my  head.  Good  night.  Let 
me  recommend  a  hot  drink  when  you  come  out.  There 
are  only  five  feet  of  water,  so  you  won't  drown."  And 
with  that  he  skated  rapidly  away. 

Escott  had  a  glimpse  of  him  vanishing  round  the  corner 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  55 

of  the  island,  and  then  the  ice  broke  again,  and  down  he 
went.  Four,  five,  six  times  he  made  a  desperate  effort 
to  get  out,  and  every  time  the  thin  ice  tore  under  his 
hands,  and  he  slipped  back  again.  By  the  seventh 
attempt  he  had  broken  his  way  to  the  thicker  sheet;  he 
got  one  leg  up,  slipped,  got  it  up  again,  and  at  last,  half 
numbed  and  wholly  breathless,  he  was  crawling  cir- 
cumspectly away.  When  at  last  he  ventured  to  rise  to 
his  feet,  he  skated  with  all  the  speed  he  could  make  to 
the  seat  where  he  had  left  his  coat.  A  pair  of  skates 
lay  there  instead,  but  the  coat  had  vanished.  Dr  Escott's 
philosophical  estimate  of  Mr  Beveridge  became  con- 
siderably modified. 

"Thank  the  Lord,  he  can't  get  out  of  the  grounds," 
he  said  to  himself;  "what  a  dangerous  devil  he  is!  But 
he'll  be  sorry  for  this  performance,  or  I'm  mistaken." 

When  he  arrived  at  the  house  his  first  inquiries  were 
for  his  tutor  in  the  art  of  vine-cutting,  and  he  was  rather 
surprised  to  hear  that  he  had  not  yet  returned,  for  he 
only  imagined  himself  the  victim  of  a  peculiarly  ill-timed 
practical  joke. 

Men  with  lanterns  were  sent  out  to  search  the  park; 
and  still  there  was  no  sign  of  Mr  Beveridge.  Inquiries 
were  made  at  the  lodge,  but  the  gatekeeper  could  swear 
that  only  a  single  carriage  had  passed  through.  Dr 
Congleton  refused  at  first  to  believe  that  he  could  possibly 
have  got  out. 

"Our  arrangements  are  perfect, — the  thing's  absurd," 
he  said,  peremptorily. 

"That  there  man,  sir,"  replied  Moggridge,  who  had 


56  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

been  summoned,  "is  the  slipperiest  customer  as  ever  I 
seed.  'E's  hout,  sir,  I  believe." 

"We  might  at  least  try  the  stations,"  suggested  Escott, 
who  had  by  this  time  changed,  and  indulged  in  the  hot 
drink  recommended. 

The  doctor  began  to  be  a  little  shaken. 

"Well,  well,"  said  he,  "I'll  send  a  man  to  each  of  the 
three  stations  within  walking  distance;  and  whether  he's 
out  or  in,  we'll  have  him  by  to-morrow  morning.  I've 
always  taken  care  that  he  had  no  money  in  his  pockets." 

But  what  is  a  doctor's  care  against  a  woman's  heart? 
For  many  to-morrows  Clankwood  had  to  lament  the  loss 
of  the  gifted  Francis  Beveridge. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

At  sixteen  minutes  to  five  Mr  Beveridge  stood  by  the 
side  of  the  Clankwood  Avenue,  comfortably  wrapped 
in  Dr  Escott's  fur  coat,  and  smoking  with  the  greatest 
relish  one  of  Dr  Escott's  undeniable  cigars. 

It  was  almost  dark,  the  air  bit  keen,  the  dim  park 
with  its  population  of  black  trees  was  filled  with  a  frosty, 
eager  stillness.  All  round  the  invisible  wall  hemmed 
him  in,  the  ten  pounds,  seventeen  shillings,  and  sixpence 
lay  useless  in  his  pocket  till  that  was  past,  and  his  one 
hope  depended  on  a  woman.  But  Mr  Beveridge  was  an 
amateur  in  the  sex,  and  he  smiled  complacently  as  he 
smoked. 

He  had  waited  barely  three  minutes  when  the  quick 


THE   LUNATIC    AT   LARGE  57 

clatter  of  a  pair  of  horses  fell  on  his  ears,  and  presently 
the  lights  of  a  carriage  and  pair,  driving  swiftly  away 
from  Clankwood,  raked  the  drive  on  either  side.  As 
they  rattled  up  to  him  he  gave  a  shout  to  the  coachman 
to  stop,  and  stepped  right  in  front  of  the  horses.  With 
something  that  sounded  unlike  a  blessing,  the  pair  were 
thrown  almost  on  their  haunches  to  check  them  in  time. 
Never  stopping  to  explain,  he  threw  open  the  door  and 
sprang  in;  the  coachman,  hearing  no  sound  of  protest, 
whipped  up  again,  and  Mr  Beveridge  found  himself 
rolling  through  the  park  of  Clankwood  hi  the  Countess 
of  Grillyer's  carriage  with  a  very  timid  little  figure  by 
his  side.  Even  in  that  moment  of  triumphant  excite- 
ment the  excellence  of  his  manners  was  remarkable: 
the  first  thing  he  said  was,  "Do  you  mind  smoking?" 

In  her  confusion  of  mind  Lady  Alicia  could  only  reply 
"Oh  no,"  and  not  till  some  time  afterwards  did  she  re- 
member that  the  odour  of  a  cigar  was  clinging  and  the 
Countess's  nose  unusually  sensitive. 

After  this  first  remark  he  leaned  back  in  silence,  gradu- 
ally filling  the  carriage  with  a  blue-grey  cloud,  and  look- 
ing out  of  the  windows  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the 
other.  They  passed  quickly  through  the  lines  of  trees 
and  the  open  spaces  of  frosty  park-land,  they  drew  up 
at  the  lodge  for  a  moment,  he  heard  his  prison  gates 
swing  open,  the  harness  jingled  and  the  hoofs  began  to 
clatter  again,  a  swift  vision  of  lighted  windows  and  a 
man  looking  on  them  incuriously  swept  by,  and  then  they 
were  rolling  over  a  country  road  between  hedgerows  and 
under  the  free  stars. 


58  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

It  was  the  Lady  Alicia  who  spoke  first. 

"  I  never  thought  you  would  really  come,"  she  said. 

"I  have  been  waiting  for  that  remark,"  he  replied, 
with  his  most  irresistible  smile;  "now  for  some  more 
practical  conversation." 

As  he  did  not  immediately  begin  this  conversation  him- 
self, her  curiosity  overcame  her,  and  she  asked,  "How 
did  you  manage  to  get  out?" 

"As  my  friend  Dr  Escott  offered  no  opposition,  I 
walked  away." 

"Did  he  really  let  you ?" 

"He  never  even  expostulated." 

"Then — then  it's  all  right?"  she  said,  with  an  inex- 
plicable sensation  of  disappointment. 

"Perfectly— so  far." 

"But— didn't  they  object?" 

"Not  yet,"  he  replied;  "objections  to  my  movements 
are  generally  made  after  they  have  been  performed." 

Somehow  she  felt  immensely  relieved  at  this  hint  of 
opposition. 

"I'm  so  glad  you  got  away,"  she  whispered,  and  then 
repented  in  a  flutter. 

"Not  more  so  than  I  am,"  he  answered,  pressing  her 
hand. 

"And  now,"  he  added,  "I  should  like  to  know  how 
near  Ashditch  Junction  you  propose  to  take  me." 

"Where  are  you  going  to,  Mr  Beveridge?" 

The  "Mr  Beveridge"  was  thrown  in  as  a  corrective 
to  the  hand-pressure. 

"To    London;    where    else,    my    Alicia?    With    £10, 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  59 

17s.  6d.  in  my  pocket,  I  shall  be  able  to  eat  at  least  three 
good  dinners,  and,  by  the  third  of  them,  if  I  haven't 
fallen  on  my  feet  it  will  be  the  first  time  I  have  descended 
so  unluckily." 

"But,"  she  asked,  considerably  disconcerted,  "I 
thought  you  were  going  back  to  your  parish." 

For  a  moment  he  too  seemed  a  trifle  put  about.  Then 
he  replied  readily,  "So  I  am,  as  soon  as  I  have  purchased 
the  necessary  outfit,  restocked  my  ecclesiastical  library, 
and  called  on  my  bishop." 

She  felt  greatly  relieved  at  this  justification  of  her  share 
in  the  adventure. 

"Drop  me  at  the  nearest  point  to  the  station,"  he 
said. 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  began — "I  mean  I  think  you  had 
better  get  out  soon.  The  first  road  on  the  right  will 
take  you  straight  there,  and  we  had  better  not  pass  it." 

"Then  I  must  bid  you  farewell,"  and  he  sighed  most 
effectively.  "Farewell,  my  benefactress,  my  dear  Alicia! 
Shall  I  ever  see  you,  shall  I  ever  hear  of  you  again  ?  " 

"I  might — I  might  just  write  once;  if  you  will  answer 
it:  I  mean  if  you  would  care  to  hear  from  such  a " 

She  found  it  difficult  to  finish,  and  prudently  stopped. 

"Thanks,"  he  replied  cheerfully;  "do, — I  shall  live  in 
hopes.  I'd  better  stop  the  carriage  now." 

He  let  down  the  window,  when  she  said  hastily,  "But 
I  don't  know  your  address." 

He  reflected  for  an  instant.  "Care  of  the  Archbishop 
of  York  will  always  find  me,"  he  replied;  and  as  if  un- 
willing to  let  his  emotion  be  observed,  he  immediately 


60  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

put  his  head  out  of  the  window  and  called  on  the  coach- 
man to  stop. 

"Good-bye,"  he  whispered,  tenderly,  squeezing  her 
fingers  with  one  hand  and  opening  the  door  with  the 
other. 

"Don't  quite  forget  me,"  she  whispered  back. 

"Never!"  he  replied,  and  was  in  the  act  of  getting 
out  when  he  suddenly  turned,  and  exclaimed,  "I  must 
be  more  out  of  practice  than  I  thought;  I  had  almost 
forgotten  the  protested  salute." 

And  without  further  preamble  the  Lady  Alicia  found 
herself  kissed  at  last. 

He  jumped  out  and  shut  the  door,  and  the  carriage 
with  its  faint  halo  clattered  into  the  darkness. 

"They  are  wonderfully  alike,"  he  reflected. 

About  twenty  minutes  later  he  walked  leisurely  into 
Ashditch  Junction,  and  having  singled  out  the  station- 
master,  he  accosted  him  with  an  air  of  beneficient  con- 
sideration and  inquired  how  soon  he  could  catch  a  train 
for  London. 

It  appeared  that  the  up  express  was  not  due  for  nearly 
three-quarters  of  an  hour. 

"A  little  too  long  to  wait,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he 
turned  up  the  collar  of  his  purloined  fur  coat  to  keep 
out  the  cold,  and  picked  another  cigar  from  its  rightful 
owner's  case. 

By  way  of  further  defying  the  temperature  and  cement- 
ing his  acquaintance  with  the  station-master,  he  offered 
to  regale  that  gratified  official  with  such  refreshments  as 
the  station  bar  provided.  In  the  consumption  of  whis- 


THE   LUNATIC    AT   LARGE  61 

kies-and-sodas  (a  beverage  difficult  to  obtain  in  any 
quantity  at  Clankwood)  Mr  Beveridge  showed  himself 
as  accomplished  as  in  every  other  feat.  In  thirty-five 
minutes  he  had  despatched  no  fewer  than  six,  besides 
completely  winning  the  station-master's  heart.  As  he 
had  little  more  than  five  minutes  now  to  wait,  he  bade  a 
genial  farewell  to  the  lady  behind  the  bar,  and  started 
to  purchase  his  ticket. 

Hardly  had  he  left  the  door  of  the  refreshment-room 
when  he  perceived  an  uncomfortably  familiar  figure  just 
arrived,  breathless  with  running,  on  the  opposite  plat- 
form. The  light  of  a  lamp  fell  on  his  shining  face:  it 
was  Moggridge! 

A  stout  heart  might  be  forgiven  for  sinking  at  the  sight, 
but  Mr  Beveridge  merely  turned  to  his  now  firm  friends 
and  said  with  his  easiest  air,  "  On  the  opposite  platform  I 
perceive  one  of  my  runaway  lunatics.  Bring  a  couple 
of  stout  porters  as  quickly  as  you  can,  for  he  is  a  person 
of  much  strength  and  address.  My  name,"  he  drew  a 
card-case  from  the  pocket  of  his  fur  coat,  "  is,  as  you  see, 
Dr  Escott  of  Clankwood." 

Meanwhile  Moggridge,  after  hurriedly  investigating 
the  platform  he  was  on,  suddenly  spied  a  tall  fur-coated 
figure  on  the  opposite  side.  Without  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion he  sprang  on  to  the  rails,  and  had  just  mounted  the 
other  side  as  the  station-master  and  two  porters  ap- 
peared. 

Seeing  his  allies  by  his  side  Mr  Beveridge  never  said  a 
word,  but,  throwing  off  his  hat,  he  lowered  his  head, 
charged  his  keeper,  and  picking  him  up  by  the  knees 


62  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

threw  him  heavily  on  his  back.  Before  he  had  a  chance 
of  recovering  himself  the  other  three  were  seated  on  his 
chest  employed  in  winding  a  coil  of  rope  round  and  round 
his  prostrate  form. 

Two  minutes  later  Moggridge  was  sitting  bound  hand 
and  foot  in  the  booking  office,  addressing  an  amused  au- 
dience in  a  strain  of  perhaps  excusable  exasperation, 
which  however  merely  served  to  impress  the  Ashditch 
officials  with  a  growing  sense  of  their  address  in  captur- 
ing so  dangerous  a  lunatic.  In  the  middle  of  this  enter- 
taining scene  the  London  express  steamed  in,  and  Mr 
Beveridge,  courteously  thanking  the  station-master  for 
his  assistance,  stepped  into  a  first-class  carriage. 

"I  should  be  much  obliged,"  he  said,  leaning  on  the 
door  of  his  compartment  and  blowing  the  smoke  of  Dr 
Escott's  last  Havannah  lightly  from  his  lips,  "if  you 
would  be  kind  enough  to  keep  that  poor  fellow  in  the 
station  till  to-morrow.  It  is  rather  too  late  to  send  him 
back  now.  Good  night,  and  many  thanks." 

He  pressed  a  coin  into  the  station-master's  hand, 
which  that  disapponted  official  only  discovered  on  empty- 
ing his  pockets  at  night  to  be  an  ordinary  sixpence,  the 
guard  whistled,  and  one  by  one,  smoothly  and  slowly 
and  then  in  a  bright  stream,  the  station  lamps  slipped 
by.  The  last  of  them  flitted  into  the  night,  and  the 
train  swung  and  rattled  by  a  mile  a  minute  nearer  to 
London  town  and  farther  from  the  high  stone  wall. 
There  was  no  other  stop,  and  for  a  long  hour  the  ad- 
venturer sat  with  his  legs  luxuriously  stretched  along  the 
cushions  looking  out  into  a  fainter  duplicate  of  his  car- 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  63 

riage,  pierced  now  and  then  by  the  glitter  of  brighter 
points  as  they  whisked  by  some  wayside  village,  or  crossed 
by  the  black  shadows  of  trees.  The  whole  time  he 
smiled  contentedly,  doubtless  at  the  prospect  of  his  parish 
work.  All  at  once  he  seemed  stirred,  and,  turning  in 
his  seat,  laid  his  face  upon  the  window,  and  pulled  down 
the  blind  behind  his  head,  so  that  he  could  see  into  the 
night.  He  had  spied  the  first  bright  filaments  of  London. 
Quickly  they  spread  into  a  twinkling  network,  and  then 
as  quickly  were  shut  out  by  the  first  line  of  suburb  houses; 
through  the  gaps  they  grew  nearer  and  flared  cheerfully; 
the  train  hooted  over  an  archway,  and  in  the  road  below 
he  had  a  glimpse  of  shop  windows  and  crowded  pave- 
ments and  moving  omnibuses:  he  was  in  the  world  again, 
and  at  the  foretaste  of  all  this  life  he  laughed  like  a  de- 
lighted child.  Last  of  all  came  the  spread  of  shining 
rails  and  the  red  and  yellow  lights  of  many  signals,  and 
then  the  high  glass  roof  and  long  lamp-lit  platforms  of 
St  Euston's  Cross. 

Unencumbered  by  luggage  or  plans,  Mr  Francis  Bev- 
eridge  stuck  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets  and  strolled 
aimlessly  enough  out  of  the  station  into  the  tideway  of 
the  Euston  Road.  For  a  little  he  stood  stock-still  on  the 
pavement  watching  the  throng  of  people  and  the  per- 
petual buses  and  drays  and  the  jingling  hansoms  picking 
their  way  through  it  all. 

"For  a  man  of  brains,"  he  moralised,  "even  though 
he  be  certified  as  insane,  for  probably  the  best  of  reasons, 
this  London  has  surely  fools  enough  to  provide  him  with 
all  he  needs  and  more  than  he  deserves.  I  shall  set  out 


64  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

with  my  lantern  like  a  second  Diogenes  to  look  for  a 
foolish  man." 

And  so  he  strolled  along  again  to  the  first  opening 
southwards.  That  led  him  through  a  region  of  dingy 
enough  brick  by  day,  but  decked  now  with  its  string  of 
lamps  and  bright  shop-windows  here  and  there,  and  kept 
alive  by  passing  buses  and  cabs  going  and  coming  from 
the  station.  Farther  on  the  street  grew  gloomier,  and  a 
dark  square  with  a  grove  of  trees  in  the  middle  opened 
off  one  side;  but,  rattle  or  quiet,  flaring  shops  or  sad- 
looking  lodgings,  he  found  it  all  too  fresh  and  amusing 
to  hurry. 

"  Back  to  my  parish  again,"  he  said  to  himself,  smiling 
broadly  at  the  drollery  of  the  idea.  "If  I'm  caught 
to-morrow,  I'll  at  least  have  one  merry  night  in  my 
wicked,  humorous  old  charge." 

He  reached  Holborn  and  turned  west  in  the  happiest 
and  most  enviable  of  moods;  the  very  policemen  seemed 
to  cast  a  friendly  eye  on  him;  the  frosty  air,  he  thought, 
made  the  lights  burn  brighter  and  the  crowd  move  more 
briskly  than  ever  he  had  seen  them.  Suddenly  the  sight 
of  a  hairdresser's  saloon  brought  an  inspiration.  He 
stroked  his  beard,  twisted  his  moustaches  half  regret- 
fully, and  then  exclaiming,  "  Exit  Mr  Beveridge,"  turned 
into  the  shop. 


PART  II. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  Baron  Rudolf  von  Blitzenberg  sat  by  him- 
self at  a  table  in  the  dining-room  of  the  Hotel 
Mayonaise,  which,  as  everybody  knows,  is  the 
largest  and  most  expensive  in  London.  He 
was  a  young  man  of  a  florid  and  burly  Teutonic  type 
and  the  most  ingenuous  countenance.  Being  possessed 
of  a  curious  and  enterprising  disposition,  as  well  as 
the  most  ample  means,  he  had  left  his  ancestral  castle  in 
Bavaria  to  study  for  a  few  months  the  customs  and 
politics  of  England.  In  the  language  he  was  already 
proficient,  and  he  had  promised  himself  an  amusing  as 
well  as  an  instructive  visit.  But,  although  he  had  only 
arrived  in  London  that  morning,  he  was  already  beginning 
to  feel  an  uncomfortable  apprehension  lest  hi  both  re- 
spects he  should  be  disappointed.  Though  his  intro- 
ductions were  the  best  with  which  the  British  Ambassa- 
dor could  supply  him,  they  were  only  three  or  four  in 
number,  —  for,  not  wishing  to  be  hampered  with  too  many 
acquaintances,  he  had  rather  chosen  quality  than  quan- 
tity: and  now,  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  he  had 
found  to  his  chagrin  that  in  every  case  the  families  were 
out  of  town.  In  fact,  so  far  as  he  could  learn,  they  were 

66 


66  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

not  even  at  their  own  country  seats.  One  was  abroad, 
another  gone  to  the  seaside  to  recover  from  the  mumps, 
or  a  third  paying  a  round  of  visits. 

The  disappointment  was  sharp,  he  felt  utterly  at  sea 
as  to  what  he  should  do,  and  he  was  already  beginning  to 
experience  the  loneliness  of  a  single  mortal  in  a  crowded 
hotel. 

As  the  frosty  evening  was  setting  in  and  the  shops  were 
being  lit,  he  had  strolled  out  into  the  streets  in  the  vague 
hope  of  meeting  some  strange  foreign  adventure,  or  per- 
haps even  happily  lighting  upon  some  half-forgotten 
diplomatic  acquaintance.  But  he  found  the  pavements 
crowded  with  a  throng  who  took  no  notice  of  him  at  all, 
but  seemed  every  man  and  most  women  of  them  to  be 
pushing  steadily,  and  generally  silently,  towards  a  million 
mysterious  goals.  Not  that  he  could  tell  they  were  silent 
except  by  their  set  lips,  for  the  noise  of  wheels  and  horses 
on  so  many  hundreds  of  miles  of  streets,  and  the  cries  of 
busmen  and  vendors  of  evening  papers,  made  such  a 
hubbub  that  he  felt  before  long  in  a  maze.  He  lost  his 
way  four  times,  and  was  patronisingly  set  right  by  benefi- 
cent policemen;  and  at  last,  feeling  like  a  man  who  has 
fallen  off  a  precipice  on  to  a  soft  place — none  the  worse 
but  quite  bewildered — he  struggled  back  to  his  hotel. 
There  he  spun  out  his  time  by  watching  the  people  come 
and  go,  and  at  last  dressed  with  extra  deliberation. 

About  eight  o'clock  he  sat  down  to  his  solitary  dinner. 
The  great  gilt  and  panelled  room  was  full  of  diners  and 
bustling  waiters,  but  there  was  not  a  face  the  Baron  had 
ever  seen  before.  He  was  just  finishing  a  plate  of  white- 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  67 

bait  when  he  observed  a  stranger  enter  the  room  and 
stroll  in  a  very  self-possessed  manner  down  the  middle, 
glancing  at  the  tables  round  him  as  though  he  was  looking 
either  for  a  friend  or  a  desirable  seat.  This  gentleman 
was  tall,  fair,  and  clean-shaved ;  he  was  dressed  in  a  suit 
of  well-fitting  tweeds,  and  his  air  impressed  the  Baron 
as  being  natural  and  yet  distinguished.  At  last  his  eye 
fell  upon  the  Baron,  who  felt  conscious  of  undergoing  a 
quick,  critical  scrutiny.  The  table  at  which  that  noble- 
man sat  was  laid  for  two,  and  coming  apparently  to  a 
sudden  resolution,  the  good-looking  stranger  seated  nun- 
self  in  the  vacant  chair.  In  an  agreeable  voice  and  with 
an  unmistakably  well-bred  air  he  asked  a  waiter  for  the 
wine-list,  and  then,  like  a  man  with  an  excellent  appetite, 
fell  to  upon  the  various  hors  d'oeuvres,  the  entire  collec- 
tion of  which,  in  fact,  he  consumed  in  a  wonderfully 
short  space  of  time.  The  Baron,  being  himself  no  trifler 
with  his  victuals,  regarded  this  feat  with  sympathetic 
approval,  and  began  to  feel  a  little  less  alone  in  the  world. 
His  naturally  open  disposition  was  warmed  besides, 
owing  to  a  slight  misconception  he  had  fallen  into,  per- 
fectly excusable  however  hi  a  foreigner.  He  thought  he 
had  read  somewhere  that  port  was  the  usual  accompani- 
ment to  the  first  courses  of  an  English  dinner,  and  as 
his  waiter  had  been  somewhat  dilatory  in  bringing  him 
the  more  substantial  items  of  the  repast,  he  had  already 
drunk  three  claret-glasses  of  this  cheering  wine.  The 
chill  recollections  of  his  sixteen  quarterings  and  the 
exclusiveness  he  had  determined  to  maintain  as  becoming 
to  his  rank  were  already  melting,  and  he  met  the  stranger's 


68  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

eye  with  what  for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  help  being  a 
cordial  look. 

His  vis-d-vis  caught  the  glance,  smiled  back,  and  im- 
mediately asked,  with  the  most  charming  politeness, 
"Do  you  care,  sir,  to  split  a  bottle  of  champagne?" 

"  To — er — shplid  ? "  said  the  Baron,  with  a  disap- 
pointed consciousness  of  having  been  put  at  a  loss  in  his 
English  by  the  very  first  man  who  had  spoken  to  him. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon, — I  am  afraid  I  was  unintelligibly 
idiomatic.  To  divide,  I  should  say,  you  consuming 
one-half,  I  the  other.  Am  I  clear,  sir?" 

For  a  moment  the  Baron  was  a  little  taken  aback,  and 
then  recollecting  that  the  dining  habits  of  the  English 
were  still  new  to  him,  he  concluded  that  the  suggestion 
was  probably  a  customary  act  of  courtesy.  He  had 
already  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  gentleman  must 
be  a  person  of  rank,  and  he  replied  affably,  "Yah — zat 
is,  vid  pleasure.  Zanks,  very." 

"The  pleasure  is  mine,"  said  the  stranger — "and  half 
the  bottle,"  he  added,  smiling. 

The  Baron,  whose  perception  of  humour  had  been 
abnormally  increased  by  this  time,  laughed  hilariously 
at  the  infection  of  his  new  acquaintance's  smile. 

"Goot,  goot!"  he  cried.     "Ach,  yah,  zo." 

"Am  I  right,  sir,  in  supposing  that,  despite  the  per- 
fection of  your  English  accent,  I  cannot  be  fortunate 
enough  to  claim  you  as  a  countryman?"  asked  the 
stranger. 

The  Baron's  resolutions  of  reticence  had  vanished 
altogether  before  such  unexpected  and  (he  could  not 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  69 

but  think)  un-English  friendliness.  He  unburdened  his 
heart  with  a  rush. 

"You  have  ze  right.  I  am  Deutsch.  I  have  gom  to 
England  zis  day  for  to  lairn  and  to  amuse  myself.  But 
mein,  vat  you  call? — introdogtions  zey  are  not  inside, 
&at  is  zey  are  from  off.  Not  von,  all,  every  single  gone 
to  ze  gontry  or  to  abroad.  I  am  alone,  I  eat  my  dinner 
in  zolitude,  I  am  pleased  to  meet  you,  sare." 

A  cork  popped  and  the  champagne  frothed  into  the 
stranger's  glass.  Raising  it  to  his  lips,  he  said,  "Prosit!" 

"  Prosit ! "  responded  the  Baron,  enthusiastically.  "  You 
know  ze  Deutsch,  sare  ?  " 

"I  am  safer  in  English,  I  confess." 

"Ach,  das  ist  goot,  I  vant  for  to  practeese.  Ve  vill 
talk  English." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  said  the  stranger.  "I,  too,  am 
alone,  and  I  hold  myself  more  than  fortunate  in  making 
your  acquaintance.  It's  a  devilish  dull  world  when  one 
can't  share  a  bottle — or  a  brace  of  them,  for  the  matter 
of  that." 

"You  know  London?"  asked  the  Baron. 

"  I  used  to,  and  I  daresay  my  memory  will  revive." 

"I  know  it  not,  pairhaps  you  can  inform.  I  haf  gom, 
as  I  say,  to-day." 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  the  stranger,  readily.  "  In  fact, 
if  you  are  ever  disengaged  I  may  possibly  be  able  to  act  as 
showman." 

"Showman!"  roared  the  Baron,  thinking  he  had  dis- 
covered a  jest.  "Ha,  ha,  ha!  Goot,  zehr  goot!" 

The  other  looked  a  trifle  astonished  for  an    instant, 


70  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

and  then  as  he  sipped  his  champagne  an  expression  of 
intense  satisfaction  came  over  his  face. 

"I  can  put  away  my  lantern,"  he  said  to  himself, — 
"I  have  found  him." 

"  May  I  have  the  boldness  to  ask  your  name,  sir  ?  "  he 
asked  aloud. 

"Ze  Baron  Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg,"  that  nobleman 
replied.  "  Yours,  sare — may  I  dare  ?  " 

"Francis  Bunker,  at  your  service,  Baron." 

"  You  are  noble  ?  "  queried  the  Baron  a  little  anxiously, 
for  his  prejudices  on  this  point  were  strong. 

"According  to  your  standard  I  believe  I  may  say  so. 
That's  to  say,  my  family  have  borne  arms  for  two  hundred 
odd  generations;  twenty-five  per  cent  of  them  have  died 
of  good  living;  and  the  most  malicious  have  never  ac- 
cused us  of  brains.  I  myself  may  not  be  very  typical, 
but  I  assure  you  it  isn't  my  ancestors'  fault." 

The  latter  part  of  this  explanation  entirely  puzzled 
the  Baron.  The  first  statement,  though  eminently  satis- 
factory, was  also  a  little  bewildering. 

"Two  hondred  generations?"  he  asked,  courteously. 
"  Zat  is  a  vary  old  family.  All  bore  arms  you  say,  Mistair 
Bonker?" 

"All,"  replied  Mr  Bunker,  gravely.  "The  first  few 
bore  tails  as  well." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  Baron.  "You  are  a  fonny 
man  I  pairceive,  vat  you  call  clown,  yes  ?  " 

"What  my  friends  call  clown,  and  I  call  wit,"  Mr 
Bunker  corrected. 

"Vit!    Ha,  ha,  ha!"  roared  the  Baron,  whose  mind 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  71 

was  now  in  an  El  Dorado  of  humour  when  jokes  grew 
like  daisies.  His  loneliness  had  disappeared  as  if  by 
magic ;  as  course  succeeded  course  his  contentment  showed 
itself  in  a  perpetually  beaming  smile:  he  ceased  to  worry 
even  about  his  friend's  pedigree,  convinced  in  his  mind 
that  manners  so  delightful  and  distinguished  could  only 
result  from  repeated  quarterings  and  unoccupied  fore- 
fathers. Yet  by  the  time  dessert  arrived  and  he  had 
again  returned  to  his  port,  he  began  to  feel  an  extreme 
curiosity  to  know  more  concerning  Mr  Bunker.  He 
himself  had  volunteered  a  large  quantity  of  miscellaneous 
information:  about  Bavaria,  its  customs  and  its  people, 
more  especially  the  habits  and  history  of  the  Blitzenberg 
family;  about  himself,  his  parentage  and  education;  all 
about  his  family  ghost,  his  official  position  as  hereditary 
carpet-beater  to  the  Bavarian  Court,  and  many  other 
things  equally  entertaining  and  instructive.  Mr  Bunker, 
for  his  part,  had  so  far  confined  his  confidences  to  his 
name. 

"My  dear  Bonker,"  said  the  Baron  at  last — he  had 
become  quite  familiar  by  this  time — "vat  make  you  in 
London  ?  I  fear  you  are  bird  of  passage.  Do  you  stay 
long?" 

Mr  Bunker  cracked  a  nut,  looking  very  serious;  then 
he  leant  on  one  elbow,  glanced  up  at  the  ceiling  pen- 
sively, and  sighed. 

"I  hope  I  do  not  ask  vat  I  should  not,"  the  Baron 
interposed,  courteously. 

"My  dear  Baron,  ask  what  you  like,"  replied  Mr 
Bunker.  "In  a  city  full  of  strangers,  or  of  friends  who 


72  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

have  forgotten  me,  you  alone  have  my  confidence.  My 
story  is  a  common  one  of  youthful  folly  and  present 
repentance,  but  such  as  it  is,  you  are  welcome  to  it." 

The  Baron  gulped  down  half  a  glass  of  port  and  leaned 
forward  sympathetically. 

"My  father,"  Mr  Bunker  continued  with  an  air  of 
half-sad  reminiscence,  "is  one  of  the  largest  landowners 
and  the  head  of  one  of  the  most  ancient  families  in  the 
north  of  England.  I  was  his  eldest  son  and  heir.  I  am 
still,  I  have  every  reason  to  believe,  his  eldest  son,  but 
my  heirship,  I  regret  to  say,  is  more  doubtful.  I  spent 
a  prodigal  youth  and  a  larger  sum  of  money  than  my 
poor  father  approved  of.  He  was  a  strict  though  a  kind 
parent,  and  for  the  good  of  my  health  and  the  replenish- 
ment of  the  family  coffers,  which  had  been  sadly  drained 
by  my  extravagance,  he  sent  me  abroad.  There  I  have 
led  a  roving  life  for  the  last  six  years,  and  at  last,  my  wild 
oats  sown,  reaped,  and  gathered  in  (and  a  well-filled  stack- 
yard they  made,  I  can  assure  you),  I.  decided  to  return  to 
England  and  become  an  ornament  to  respectable  society. 
Like  you,  I  arrived  in  London  to-day,  but  only  to  find 
to  my  disgust  that  my  family  have  gone  to  winter  in 
Egypt.  So  you  see  that  at  present  I  am  like  a  ship- 
wrecked sailor  clinging  to  a  rock  and  waiting,  with  what 
patience  I  can  muster,  for  a  boat  to  take  me  off." 

"You  mean,"  inquired  the  Baron,  anxiously,  "that 
you  vish  to  go  to  Egypt  at  vonce  ?  " 

"I  had  thought  of  it;  though  there  is  a  difficulty  in  the 
way,  I  admit." 

"You  vill  not  stay  zen  here?" 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  73 

"My  dear  Baron,  why  should  I?  I  have  neither 
friends  nor " 

He  stopped  abruptly. 

"I  do  not  like  to  zink  I  shall  lose  your  company  so 
soon." 

"I  admit,"  allowed  Mr  Bunker,  "that  this  fortunate 
meeting  tempts  me  to  stay." 

"Vy  not?"  said  the  Baron,  cordially.  "Can  your 
fader  not  vait  to  see  you  ?  " 

"I  hardly  think  he  will  worry  about  me,  I  confess." 

"  Zen  stay,  my  goot  Bonker ! " 

"Unfortunately  there  is  the  same  difficulty  as  stands 
in  the  way  of  my  going  to  Egypt." 

"  And  may  I  inquire  vat  zat  is  ? " 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,"  replied  Mr  Bunker,  with  an 
air  of  reluctant  candour,  "my  funds  are  rather  low.  I 
had  trusted  to  finding  my  father  at  home,  but  as  he 

isn't,  why "  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  threw 

himself  back  in  his  chair. 

The  Baron  seemed  struck  with  an  idea  which  he  hesi- 
tated to  express. 

"Shall  we  smoke?"  his  friend  suggested. 

"Vaiter!"  cried  the  Baron,  "bring  here  two  best  cigars 
and  two  coffee!" 

"  A  liqueur,  Baron  ?  " 

"Ach,  yah.     Vat  for  you?" 

"A  liqueur  brandy  suggests  itself." 

"Vaiter!  and  two  brandy." 

"  And  now,"  said  the  Baron,  "  I  haf  an  idea,  Bonker." 


74  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Baron  Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg,  as  I  have  said, 
had  a  warm  heart.  He  was,  besides,  alone  in  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  square  miles  of  strangers  and  foreigners 
when  he  had  happened  upon  this  congenial  spirit.  He 
began  in  a  tone  of  the  most  ingenuous  friendliness — 

"I  haf  no  friends  here.  My  introdogtions  zey  are 
gone.  Bot  I  haf  moch  money,  and  I  vish  a,  vat  you 
say? — showman,  ha,  ha,  ha!  You  haf  too  leetle  money 
and  no  friends  and  you  can  show.  You  show  and  I 
will  loan  you  vat  you  vish.  May  I  dare  to  suggest  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Baron ! " 

"  My  goot  Bonker !  I  am  in  airnest,  I  assure.  Vy  not  ? 
It  is  vun  gentleman  and  anozzer." 

"You  are  far  too  kind." 

"It  is  to  myself  I  am  kind,  zen.  I  vant  a  guide,  a 
frient.  It  is  a  loan.  Do  not  scruple.  Ven  your  fader 
goms  you  can  pay  if  you  please.  It  is  nozing  to  me." 

"Well,  my  dear  Baron,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  like  a  man 
persuaded  against  his  will,  "what  can  I  say?  I  confess 
I  might  find  a  little  difficulty  in  replenishing  my  purse 
without  resorting  to  disagreeable  means,  and  if  you  really 
wish  my  society,  why " 

"  Zen  it  is  a  bairgain  ?  "  cried  the  Baron. 

"If  you  insist " 

"I  insist.  Vaiter!  Alzo  two  ozzer  liqueur.  Ve  most 
drink  to  ze  bairgain,  Bonker." 

They  pledged  each  other  cordially,  and  talked  from 


THE   LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  75 

that  moment  like  old  friends.  The  Baron  was  thor- 
oughly pleased  with  himself,  and  Mr  Bunker  seemed 
no  less  gratified  at  his  own  good  fortune.  Half  an  hour 
went  quickly  by,  and  then  the  Baron  exclaimed,  "Let  us 
do  zomzing  to-night,  Bonker.  I  burn  for  to  begin  zis 
show  of  London." 

"What  would  you  care  to  do,  Baron?  It  is  rather 
late,  I  am  afraid,  to  think  of  a  theatre.  What  do  you  say 
to  a  music-hall?" 

"Music-hall?  I  haf  seen  zem  at  home.  Damned 
amusing,  das  ist  ze  expression,  yes?" 

"It  is  a  perfect  description." 

"Bot,"  continued  the  Baron,  solemnly,  "I  must  not 
begin  vid  ze  vickedest." 

"And  yet,"  replied  his  friend,  persuasively,  "even 
wickedness  needs  a  beginning." 

"  Bot,  if  I  begin  I  may  not  stop.  Zomzing  more  qviet 
ze  first  night.  Haf  you  a  club  ?  " 

Mr  Bunker  pondered  for  a  moment,  and  a  curious 
smile  stole  across  his  face.  Then  it  vanished,  and  he 
answered  readily,  "Certainly,  Baron,  an  excellent  idea. 
I  haven't  been  to  my  club  for  so  long  that  it  never  struck 
me.  Let  us  come." 

"Goot!"  cried  the  Baron,  rising  with  alacrity. 

They  put  on  their  coats  (Mr  Bunker's,  it  may  be  re- 
marked, being  a  handsome  fur-lined  garment),  the  porter 
hailed  a  cab,  and  the  driver  was  ordered  to  take  them 
to  the  Regent's  Club  in  Pall  Mall.  The  Baron  knew  it 
by  reputation  as  the  most  exclusive  in  London,  and  his 
opinion  of  his  friend  rose  still  higher. 


76  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

They  joined  a  jingling  string  of  other  hansoms  and 
sped  swiftly  through  the  exhilarating  bustle  of  the  streets. 
To  the  Baron  it  seemed  as  if  a  great  change  had  come 
over  the  city  since  he  wandered  disconsolately  before 
dinner.  Carried  swiftly  to  the  music  of  the  little  bells 
through  the  sharp  air  and  the  London  night  that  is  brighter 
than  day,  with  a  friend  by  his  side  and  a  good  dinner 
within,  he  marked  the  most  astonishing  difference.  All 
the  people  seemed  to  talk  and  laugh,  and  for  his  own 
part  he  found  it  hard  to  keep  his  tongue  still. 

"I  know  ze  name  of  ze  Regent's,"  he  said;  "vun  club 
of  ze  best,  is  it  not?" 

"The  very  best  club,  Baron." 

"Zey  are  all  noble?" 

"In  many  cases  the  receipts  for  their  escutcheons  are 
still  in  their  pockets." 

Though  the  precise  significance  of  this  explanation 
was  not  quite  clear  to  the  Baron,  it  sounded  eminently 
satisfactory. 

"Zo?"  he  said.  "I  shall  be  moch  interested  to  see 
zem." 

As  they  entered  the  club  the  porter  stared  at  them 
curiously,  and  even  made  a  movement  as  though  he 
would  step  out  and  address  them;  but  Mr  Bunker,  wish- 
ing him  a  courteous  good  evening,  walked  briskly  up  to 
the  hat-and-cloak  racks  in  the  hall.  A  young  man  had 
just  hung  up  his  hat,  and  as  he  was  divesting  himself  of 
his  coat,  Mr  Bunker  quickly  took  the  hat  down,  glanced 
at  the  name  inside,  and  replaced  it  on  its  peg.  Then  he 
held  out  his  hand  and  addressed  the  young  man  cordially. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  77 

"Good  evening,  Transome,  how  are  you?"  said  he, 
and,  heedless  of  the  look  of  surprise  on  the  other's  face, 
he  turned  towards  the  Baron  and  added,  "Let  me  intro- 
duce the  Baron  Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg — Mr  Tran- 
some. The  Baron  has  just  come  to  England,  and  I 
thought  he  couldn't  begin  better  than  by  a  visit  to  the 
Regent's.  Let  us  come  into  the  smoking-room." 

In  a  few  minutes  they  were  all  on  the  best  of  terms. 
A  certain  perplexity,  and  almost  shyness,  that  the  young 
man  showed  at  first,  vanished  rapidly  before  the  Baron's 
cordiality  and  Mr  Bunker's  well-bred  charm  of  manner. 

They  were  deeply  engrossed  in  a  discussion  on  the 
reigning  sovereign  of  the  Baron's  native  land,  a  monarch 
of  whose  enlightened  policy  that  nobleman  spoke  with 
pardonable  pride,  when  two  elderly  gentlemen  entered 
the  room. 

"  Who  are  these  ?  "  Mr  Bunker  whispered  to  Transome. 
"  I  know  them  very  well,  but  I  am  always  bad  at  names." 

"Lord  Fabrigas  and  General  M'Dermott,"  replied 
Transome. 

Instantly  Mr  Bunker  rose  and  greeted  the  new-comers. 

"Good  evening,  Lord  Fabrigas;  good  evening,  General. 
You  have  just  come  in  time  to  be  introduced  to  the  Baron 
Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg,  whom  you  doubtless  know 
by  reputation." 

The  Baron  rose  and  bowed,  and  it  struck  him  that 
elderly  English  gentlemen  were  singularly  stiff  and  con- 
strained in  their  manner.  Mr  Bunker,  however,  con- 
tinued cheerfully,  "We  are  just  going  to  have  a  smoking 
concert.  Will  you  begin,  Baron  ?  " 


78  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"I  know  not  English  songs,"  replied  the  Baron,  "hot 
I  should  like  moch  to  hear." 

"You  must  join  in  the  chorus,  then." 

"Certainly,  Bonker.  I  haf  a  voice  zat  is  considered — 
vat  you  call — deafening,  yes  ? — in  ze  chorus." 

Mr  Bunker  cleared  his  throat,  and,  just  as  the  General 
was  on  the  point  of  interposing  a  remark,  struck  up 
hastily;  and  for  the  first  time  in  its  long  and  honourable 
history  the  smoking-room  of  the  Regent's  Club  re- 
echoed to  a  popular  music-hall  ditty. 

"They  sometimes  call  'em  duckies,  they  sometimes  call  'em  pets, 

And  sometimes  they  refer  to  'em  as  dears 
They  live  on  little  matters  that  a  gentleman  forgets, 

In  a  little  world  of  giggles  and  of  tears; 
There  are  different  varieties  from  which  a  man  may  choose, 

There  are  sorts  and  shapes  and  sizes  without  end, 
But  the  kind  I'd  pick  myself  is  the  kind  you  introduce 
By  the  simple  title  of  'my  lady  friend.'" 

"Chorus,  Baron!"  And  then  he  trolled  in  waltz  time 
this  edifying  refrain — 

"My  lady  friend,  my  lady  friend! 

Can't  you  twig,  dear  boys, 
From  the  sound  of  the  kisses 
She  isn't  my  misses, 
She's  only  my  lady  friend!" 

In  a  voice  like  a  train  going  over  a  bridge  the  Baron 

chimed  in — 

"My  laty  vrient,  my  laty  vrient! 

Cannot  you  tvig,  mine  boy, 
Vrom  ze  sound  of  ze  kiss, 
He  is  not  my  miss, 
He  is  only  mine  laty  vrient!" 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  79 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  as  they  finished  the 
chorus,  "that  I  can't  remember  any  more.  Now,  Gen- 
eral, it's  your  turn." 

"Sir,"  replied  that  gallant  officer,  who  had  listened 
to  this  ditty  in  purple  and  petrified  astonishment,  "I 
don't  know  who  the  devil  you  are,  but  I  can  tell  you,  you 
won't  remain  a  member  of  this  club  much  longer  if  you 
come  into  it  again  in  this  state." 

"I  had  forgotten,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  with  even  more 
than  his  usual  politeness,  "  that  such  an  admirable  music- 
hall  critic  was  listening  to  me.  I  must  apologise  for  my 
poor  effort." 

Wishing  him  courteously  good-night,  he  took  the  Baron 
by  the  arm  and  walked  out.  While  that  somewhat  per- 
plexed nobleman  was  struggling  into  his  coat,  his  friend 
rapidly  and  dexterously  converted  all  the  silk  hats  he 
could  see  into  the  condition  of  collapsed  opera  hats, 
and  then  picked  a  small  hand-bag  off  the  floor.  The 
Baron  walked  out  through  the  door  first,  but  Mr  Bunker 
stopped  for  an  instant  opposite  the  hall-porter's  box, 
and  crying,  "Good  night  to  you,  sir!"  hurled  the  bag 
through  the  glass,  rushed  after  his  friend,  and  in  less 
time  than  it  takes  to  tell  they  were  tearing  up  Pall  Mall 
in  a  hansom. 

For  a  few  minutes  both  were  silent;  then  the  Baron 
said  slowly,  "I  do  not  qvite  onderstand." 

"My  dear  Baron,"  his  friend  explained  gaily,  "these 
practical  jokes  are  very  common  in  our  clubs.  They 
are  quite  part  of  our  national  life,  you  know,  and  I 
thought  you  ought  to  see  everything." 


80  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

The  Baron  said  nothing,  but  he  began  to  realise  that 
he  was  indeed  in  a  foreign  country. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

"Veil,  Bonker,  vat  show  to-day?"  said  the  Baron. 

Mr  Bunker  sipped  his  coffee  and  smiled  back  at  his 
friend. 

"What  would  you  like?"  said  he. 

They  were  sitting  in  the  Baron's  private  room  finishing 
one  of  the  renowned  Hotel  Mayonaise  breakfasts.  Out 
of  the  windows  they  could  see  the  bright  curving  river, 
the  bare  tops  of  the  Embankment  trees,  a  file  of  barges 
drifting  with  the  tide,  and  cold-looking  clouds  hurrying 
over  the  chaos  of  brick  on  the  opposite  shore.  It  was  a 
bright  breezy  morning,  and  the  Baron  felt  in  high  good- 
humour  with  his  surroundings.  On  maturer  considera- 
tion, the  entertaining  experience  of  the  night  before  had 
greatly  raised  Mr  Bunker  in  his  estimation.  He  had 
chuckled  his  way  through  a  substantial  breakfast,  and  in 
such  good  company  felt  ready  for  any  adventure  that 
might  turn  up. 

He  lit  a  cigar,  pushed  back  his  chair,  and  replied 
blandly,  "I  am  in  your  hands.  I  am  ready  to  enjoy 
anyzing." 

"Do  you  wish  instruction  or  entertainment?" 

"Mix  zem,  Bonker.  Entertain  by  instrogtion;  in- 
strogt  by  entertaining." 

"You  are  epigrammatic,  Baron,  but  devilish  vague.  I 
presume,  however,  that  you  wish  entertaining  experience 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  81 

from  which  a  man  of  your  philosophical  temperament 
can  draw  a  moral — afterwards." 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  Baron.  "Excellent!  You  pro- 
vide ze  experiences — I  draw  ze  moral." 

"And  we  share  the  entertainment.  The  theory  is 
perfect,  but  I'm  afraid  we  need  a  programme.  Now,  on 
my  own  first  visit  to  London  I  remember  being  taken — by 
the  hand — to  Madame  Tussaud's  Waxworks,  the  Tower, 
St  Paul's  Cathedral,  the  fishmarket  at  Billingsgate,  the 
British  Museum,  and  a  number  of  other  damnably  edify- 
ing spectacles.  You  might  naturally  suppose  that  after 
such  a  round  it  would  be  quite  superfluous  for  me  ever  to 
come  up  to  town  again.  Yet,  surprising  as  it  may  ap- 
pear, most  of  the  knowledge  of  London  I  hope  to  put  at 
your  disposal  has  been  gained  in  the  course  of  subsequent 
visits." 

"Bot  zese  places — Tousaud,  Tower,  Paul's — are  zey 
not  instrogtif  ?" 

"If  you  wish  to  learn  that  a  great  number  of  years 
ago  a  vast  quantity  of  inconsequent  events  occurred,  or 
that  in  an  otherwise  amusing  enough  world  there  are 
here  and  there  collected  so  many  roomfuls  of  cheerless 
articles,  I  can  strongly  recommend  a  visit  to  the  Tower  of 
London  or  the  British  Museum." 

"In  mine  own  gentry,"  said  the  Baron,  thoughtfully, 
"I  can  lairn  zo  moch." 

"Then,  my  dear  Baron,  while  you  are  here  forget  it 
all." 

"And  yet,"  said  the  Baron,  still  thoughtfully,  "som- 
zing  I  should  lairn  here." 


82  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"Certainly;  you  will  learn  something  of  what  goes  on 
underneath  a  waistcoat  and  a  little  of  the  contents  of  a 
corset  and  petticoat.  Also  of  the  strange  customs  of  this 
city  and  the  excellence  of  British  institutions." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  Baron,  who  thought  that  if 
his  friend  had  not  actually  made  a  jest,  it  was  at  least 
time  for  one  to  occur.  "I  see,  I  see.  I  draw  ze  moral, 
ha,  ha!" 

"This  morning,"  Mr  Bunker  continued,  reflectively, 
"we  might — let  me  see — well,  we  might  do  a  little  shop- 
ping. To  tell  you  the  truth,  Baron,  my  South  African 
experiences  have  somewhat  exhausted  my  wardrobe." 

"Ach,  zo.  Cairtainly  ve  vill  shop.  Bot,  Bonker, 
Soud  Africa  ?  Vas  it  not  Soud  America  ?  " 

"Did  I  say  Africa?  America  of  course  I  meant. 
Well,  let  us  shop  if  you  have  no  objections :  then  we  might 
have  a  little  lunch,  and  afterwards  visit  the  Park.  For 
the  evening,  what  do  you  say  to  a  theatre  ?  " 

"Goot!"  cried  the  Baron.     "Make  it  tzos." 

Mr  Bunker's  shopping  turned  out  to  be  a  pretty  ex- 
tensive operation. 

"  Loan  vat  you  please  of  money,"  said  his  friend.  "  A 
gentleman  should  be  dressed  in  agreement." 

With  now  and  then  an  apology  for  his  extravagance, 
he  took  full  advantage  of  the  Baron's  generosity,  and 
ordered  such  an  assortment  of  garments  that  his  tailor 
could  hardly  bow  low  enough  to  express  his  gratifica- 
tion. 

After  an  excellent  lunch  in  the  most  expensive  restaurant 
to  be  found,  they  walked  arm-in-arm  westwards  along 


THE   LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  83 

Piccadilly,  Mr  Bunker  pointing  out  the  various  objects 
of  historical  or  ephemeral  interest  to  be  seen  in  that 
thoroughfare,  the  Baron  drinking  in  this  information 
with  the  serious  air  of  the  distinguished  traveller. 

"And  now  we  come  to  the  Park,"  said  Mr  Bunker. 
"  Guard  your  heart,  Baron." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  replied  the  Baron.  "Zo  instrogtion  is 
feenished,  and  now  goms  entertainment,  ha  ? " 

"With  the  moral  always  running  through  it,  remember." 

"I  shall  not  forget." 

The  sunshine  had  brought  out  a  great  many  carriages 
and  a  sprinkling  of  walkers  along  the  railings.  The  two 
friends  strolled  among  them,  eyeing  the  women  and 
stopping  now  and  then  to  look  back  at  a  carriage. 

"I  suppose,"  said  the  Baron,  "zat  vile  you  haf  been 
avay  your  frients  have  forgot  you." 

As  he  spoke  a  young  man  looked  hard  at  Mr  Bunker, 
and  even  made  a  movement  as  though  he  would  stop 
and  speak  to  him.  Mr  Bunker  looked  blandly  through 
him  and  walked  on. 

"  Do  you  not  know  zat  gentleman  ? " 

"Which  gentleman?" 

"Ze  young  man  zat  looked  so  at  you." 

"  Some  young  men  have  a  way  of  staring  here,  Baron." 

A  few  minutes  later  a  lady  in  a  passing  carriage  looked 
round  sharply  at  them  with  an  air  of  great  surprise,  and 
half  bowed. 

"Surely,"  exclaimed  the  Baron,  "zat  vas  a  frient  of 
yours ! " 

"I  am  not  a  friend  of  hers,  then,"  Mr  Bunker  replied 


84  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

with  a  laugh.  "Her  bow  I  think  must  have  been  aimed 
at  you." 

The  Baron  shook  his  head,  and  seemed  to  be  drawing 
a  moral. 

"Baron,"  his  friend  exclaimed,  suddenly,  "let  us  go 
back;  here  comes  one  of  our  most  popular  phenomena, 
a  London  fog.  We  need  not  stay  in  the  Park  to  ob- 
serve it." 

The  sun  was  already  obscured;  there  stole  a  most 
insidious  chill  through  the  air;  like  the  changing  of  a 
scene  on  the  stage  they  found  themselves  in  a  few  minutes 
walking  in  a  little  ring  of  trees  and  road  and  iron  railings 
instead  of  a  wide  sunny  park;  the  roar  of  the  streets  came 
from  behind  a  wall  of  mist  that  opened  mysteriously  to  let 
a  phantom  carriage  in  and  out,  and  closed  silently  behind 
it  again. 

"  I  like  not  zis,"  said  the  Baron,  with  a  shiver. 

By  the  time  they  had  found  Piccadilly  again  there  was 
nothing  at  all  to  be  seen  but  the  light  of  the  nearest  lamp, 
as  large  and  far  away  as  a  struggling  sun,  and  the  shadowy 
people  who  flitted  by. 

Their  talk  ceased.  The  Baron  turned  up  his  collar 
and  sucked  his  cigar  lugubriously,  and  Mr  Bunker 
seemed  unusually  thoughtful.  They  had  walked  nearly 
as  far  as  Piccadilly  Circus  when  they  were  pulled  up  by  a 
cab  turning  down  a  side-street.  There  was  a  lamp-post 
at  the  corner,  and  under  it  stood  a  burly  man,  his  red 
face  quite  visible  as  they  came  up  to  his  shoulder. 

In  an  instant  Mr  Bunker  seized  the  Baron  by  the  arm, 
pulled  him  round,  and  began  to  walk  hastily  back  again. 


THE   LUNATIC    AT   LARGE  85 

"  Vat  for  zis  ?  "  said  the  Baron,  in  great  astonishment. 

"We  have  come  too  far,  thanks  to  this  infernal  fog. 
We  must  cross  the  street  and  take  the  first  turning  on  the 
other  side.  I  must  apologise,  Baron,  for  my  absence  of 
mind." 

The  cab  passed  by  and  the  red-faced  man  strolled  on. 

"Like  lookin'  for  a  needle  in  a  bloomin'  haystack," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  I  might  as  well  go  back  to  Clank- 
wood.  'E's  a  good  riddance,  I  say." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Baron  and  Mr  Bunker  discussed  their  dinner 
with  the  relish  of  approving  connoisseurs.  Mr  Bunker 
commended  the  hock,  and  suggested  a  second  bottle; 
the  Baron  praised  the  entrees,  and  insisted  on  another 
helping.  The  frequent  laughter  arising  from  their  table 
excited  general  remark  throughout  the  room,  and  already 
the  waiters  were  whispering  to  the  other  guests  that  this 
was  a  German  nobleman  of  royal  blood  engaged  in  a 
diplomatic  mission  of  importance,  and  his  friend  a  ducal 
member  of  the  English  Cabinet,  at  present,  for  reasons 
of  state,  incognito. 

"Bonker!"  exclaimed  the  Baron,  "I  am  in  zat  frame 
of  head  I  vant  a  romance,  an  adventure"  (lowering  his 
voice  a  little),  "mit  a  beautiful  lady,  Bonker." 

"  It  must  be  a  romance,  Baron  ?  " 


86  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"A  novel,  a  story  to  tell  to  mine  frients.  In  a  strange 
city  man  expects  strange  zings." 

"Well,  I'll  do  my  best  for  you,  but  I  confess  the  pro- 
vision of  romantic  adventures  is  a  little  outside  the  pro- 
gramme we've  arranged." 

"Ha,  ha!    Ve  shall  see,  ve  shall  see,  Bonker!" 

They  arrived  at  the  Corinthian  Theatre  about  the 
middle  of  the  first  act,  for,  as  Mr  Bunker  explained,  it 
is  always  well  to  produce  a  good  first  impression,  and 
few  more  effective  means  can  be  devised  than  working 
one's  way  to  the  middle  of  a  line  of  stalls  with  the  play 
already  in  progress. 

Hardly  were  they  seated  when  the  Baron  drove  his 
elbow  into  his  friend's  ribs  (draped  for  the  night,  it  may 
be  remarked,  with  one  of  the  Baron's  spare  dress-coats) 
and  exclaimed  in  an  excited  whisper,  "Next  to  you, 
Bonker!  Ach,  zehr  hu'psch!" 

Even  before  this  hint  Mr  Bunker  had  observed  that 
the  lady  on  the  other  side  of  him  was  possessed  of  ex- 
ceptional attractions.  For  a  little  time  he  studied  her 
out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes.  He  noticed  that  the  stall 
on  the  farther  side  of  her  was  empty,  that  she  once  or 
twice  looked  round  as  though  she  expected  somebody, 
and  that  she  seemed  not  altogether  unconscious  of  her 
new  neighbours.  He  further  observed  that  her  face 
was  of  a  type  that  is  more  usually  engaged  in  attack  than 
defence. 

Then  he  whispered,  "  Would  you  like  to  know  her  ?  " 

"Ach,  yah!"  replied  the  Baron,  eagerly.  "Bot — can 
you?" 


THE   LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  87 

Mr  Bunker  smiled  confidently.  A  few  minutes  later 
he  happened  to  let  his  programme  fall  into  her  lap. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  whispered,  softly,  and  glanced 
into  her  eyes  with  a  smile  ready. 

His  usual  discernment  had  not  failed  him.  She 
smiled,  and  instantly  he  produced  his. 

A  little  later  her  opera-glasses  happened  to  slip  from 
her  hand,  and  though  they  only  slipped  slowly,  it  was  no 
doubt  owing  to  his  ready  presence  of  mind  that  their  fall 
was  averted. 

This  tune  their  fingers  happened  to  touch,  and  they 
smiled  without  an  apology. 

He  leant  towards  her,  looking,  however,  at  the  play. 
They  shared  a  laugh  over  a  joke  that  she  might  have 
been  excused  for  not  understanding;  presently  a  criticism 
of  some  situation  escaped  him  inadvertently,  and  she 
smiled  again;  soon  after  she  gave  an  exclamation  and  he 
answered  sympathetically,  and  at  the  end  of  the  act  the 
curtain  came  down  on  an  acquaintance  already  begun. 
As  the  lights  were  turned  up,  and  here  and  there  men 
began  to  go  out,  she  again  looked  at  the  entrances  in 
some  apparent  concern,  either  lest  some  one  should  not 
come  in  or  lest  some  one  should. 

"  He  is  late,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  smiling. 

She  gave  a  very  enticing  look  of  surprise,  and  con- 
sented to  smile  back  before  she  coyly  looked  away  again. 

"An  erring  husband,  I  presume." 

She  admitted  that  it  was  in  fact  a  husband  who  had 
failed  her. 

"But,"  she  added,  "I'm  afraid — I  mean  I  expect  he'll 


88  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

come  in  after  the  next  act.  It's  so  tiresome  of  him  to 
disappoint  me  like  this." 

Mr  Bunker  expressed  the  deepest  sympathy  with  her 
unfortunate  predicament. 

"He  has  his  ticket,  of  course?" 

But  it  seemed  that  she  had  both  the  tickets  with  her, 
an  arrangement  which  he  immediately  denounced  as 
likely  to  lead  to  difficulties  when  her  husband  arrived. 
He  further,  in  the  most  obliging  manner,  suggested  that 
he  should  take  the  ticket  for  the  other  seat  to  the  booking 
office  and  leave  instructions  for  its  being  given  to  the 
gentleman  on  his  arrival.  The  lady  gave  him  a  curious 
little  glance  that  seemed  to  imply  a  mixture  of  doubt  as 
to  his  motives  with  confidence  hi  his  abilities,  and  then 
with  many  thanks  agreed  to  his  suggestion.  Mr  Bunker 
took  the  ticket  and  rose  at  once. 

"  That  I  may  be  sure  you  are  in  good  company  while  I 
am  away,"  said  he,  "permit  me  to  introduce  my  friend 
the  Baron  Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg." 

And  the  Baron  promptly  took  his  vacant  seat. 

On  his  return  Mr  Bunker  found  his  friend  wreathed 
in  smiles  and  engaged  in  the  most  animated  conversation 
with  the  lady,  and  before  the  last  act  was  over,  he  gathered 
from  such  scraps  of  conversation  as  reached  his  ears  that 
Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg  had  little  to  learn  in  one  de- 
partment of  a  nobleman's  duties. 

"I  wonder  where  my  husband  cun  be,"  the  lady 
whispered. 

"Ach,  heed  him  not,  fair  lady,"  replied  the  Baron. 
"Am  I  not  instead  of  a  hosband?" 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  89 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  a  very  naughty  man,  Baron." 

"Ven  I  am  viz  you,"  the  gallant  Baron  answered,  "I 
forget  myself  all  hot  your  charms." 

These  advances  being  made  in  the  most  dulcet  tones 
of  which  the  nobleman  was  master,  and  accompanied 
by  the  most  enamoured  expression,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  the  lady  permitted  herself  to  listen  to  them  with 
perhaps  too  ready  an  ear.  What  Mr  Bunker's  arrange- 
ment with  the  booking  clerk  had  been  was  never  quite 
clear,  but  certainly  the  erring  husband  failed  to  make 
his  appearance  at  all,  and  at  the  last  fall  of  the  curtain 
she  was  easily  persuaded  to  let  the  Baron  escort  her  home. 

"I  know  I  ought  not,  but  if  a  husband  deserts  one  so 
faithlessly,  what  can  I  do  ? "  she  said,  with  a  very  becom- 
ing little  shrug  of  her  shoulders  and  a  captivating  lift 
of  her  eyebrows. 

"Ah,  vat  indeed?    He  desairves  not  so  fair  a  consort." 

"But  won't  it  be  troubling  you?" 

"Trouble?    Pleasure  and  captivation ! " 

"Excuse  me,  Baron,"  said  the  voice  of  Mr  Bunker  at 
his  elbow;  "if  you  will  wait  here  at  the  door  I  shall  send 
up  a  cab." 

"Goot!"  cried  the  Baron,  "a  zouzand  zanks!" 

"I  myself,"  added  Mr  Bunker,  with  a  profound  bow 
to  the  lady,  "shall  say  good  night  now.  The  best  of 
luck,  Baron!" 

In  a  few  minutes  a  hansom  drove  up,  and  the  Baron, 
springing  in  beside  his  charge,  told  the  man  to  drive  to 
602  Eaton  Square* 

"  Not  too  qvickly ! "  he  added,  in  a  stage  aside. 


90  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

They  reached  Trafalgar  Square,  matters  inside  going 
harmoniously  as  a  marriage  bell, — almost,  in  fact,  too 
much  suggesting  that  simile. 

"Why  are  we  going  down  Whitehall?"  the  lady  ex- 
claimed, suddenly. 

"  I  know  not,"  replied  the  Baron,  placidly. 

"  Ask  him  where  he  is  going ! "  she  said. 

The  Baron,  as  in  duty  bound,  asked,  and  the  reassuring 
reply,  "All  right,  sir,"  came  back  through  the  hole  in  the 
roof. 

"I  seem  to  know  that  man's  voice,"  the  lady  said. 
"He  must  have  driven  me  before." 

"To  me  all  ze  English  speak  ze  same,"  replied  the 
Baron.  "All  bot  you,  my  fairest,  viz  your  sound  like 
a — vat  you  call  ? — fiddle,  is  it  ?  " 

Though  his  charmer  had  serious  misgivings  regarding 
their  cabman's  topographical  knowledge,  the  Baron's 
company  proved  so  absorbing  that  it  was  not  till  they 
were  being  rapidly  driven  over  Vauxhall  Bridge  that  she 
at  last  took  alarm.  At  first  the  Baron  strove  to  soothe 
her  by  the  most  approved  Teutonic  blandishments,  but 
in  time  he  too  began  to  feel  concerned,  and  in  a  voice 
like  thunder  he  repeatedly  called  upon  the  driver  to  stop. 
No  reply  was  vouchsafed,  and  the  pace  merely  grew  the 
more  reckless. 

"  Can't  you  catch  the  reins  ? "  cried  the  lady,  who  had 
got  into  a  terrible  fright. 

The  Baron  twice  essayed  the  feat,  but  each  time  a 
heavy  blow  over  the  knuckles  from  the  butt-end  of  the 
whip  forced  him  to  desist.  The  lady  burst  into  tears. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT   LARGE  91 

The  Baron  swore  in  five  languages  alternately,  and  still 
the  cab  pursued  its  headlong  career  through  deserted 
midnight  streets,  past  infrequent  policemen  and  stray 
belated  revellers,  on  into  an  unknown  wilderness  of 
brick. 

"  Oh,  don't  let  him  murder  me ! "  sobbed  the  lady. 

"  Haf  cheer,  fairest;  he  shall  not  vile  I  am  viz  you !  Gott 
in  himmel,  ze  rascal!  Parbleu  und  blood!  Goddam! 
Vait  till  I  catch  him,  hell  and  blitzen!  Haf  courage, 
dear!" 

"Oh  dear,  oh  dear!"  wailed  the  lady.  "I  shall  never 
do  it  again!" 

They  must  have  covered  miles,  and  still  the  speed 
never  abated,  when  suddenly,  as  they  were  rounding  a 
sharp  corner,  the  horse  slipped  on  the  frost-bound  road, 
and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  Baron  and  the  lady 
were  sitting  on  opposite  sides  of  their  fallen  steed,  and 
the  cabman  was  rubbing  his  head  some  yards  in  front. 

"Teufel!"  exclaimed  the  Baron,  rising  carefully  to 
his  feet.  "  Ach,  mine  dearest  vun,  art  thou  hurt  ?  " 

The  lady  was  silent  for  a  moment,  as  though  trying 
to  decide,  and  then  she  burst  into  hysterical  laughter. 

"Ach,  zo,"  said  the  Baron,  much  relieved,  "zen  vill  I 
see  ze  cabman." 

That  individual  was  still  rubbing  his  head  with  a  rueful 
air,  and  the  Baron  was  about  to  pour  forth  all  his  bottled- 
up  indignation,  when  at  the  sight  of  the  driver's  face  he 
started  back  in  blank  astonishment. 

"Bonker!" 

"It  is  I  indeed,  my  dear  Baron,"  replied  that  gentle- 


92  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

man,  politely.  "I  must  ask  a  thousand  pardons  for 
causing  you  this  trifling  inconvenience.  As  to  your 
friend,  I  don't  know  how  I  am  to  make  my  peace  with 
her." 

"  Bot — bot  vat  means  zis  ?  "  gasped  the  Baron. 

"I  was  merely  endeavouring  to  provide  the  spice  of 
romance  you  required,  besides  giving  you  the  opportunity 
of  making  the  lady's  better  acquaintance.  Can  I  do 
anything  more  for  you,  Baron?  And  you,  my  dear 
lady,  can  I  assist  you  in  any  way  ?  " 

Both,  speaking  at  once  and  with  some  heat,  gave  a 
decidedly  affirmative  answer. 

"Where  are  we?"  asked  the  lady,  who  hovered  be- 
tween fright  and  indignation. 

Mr  Bunker  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  It  would  be  rash  to  hazard  an  opinion,"  he  replied. 

"Well!"  cried  the  lady,  her  indignation  quite  over- 
coming her  fright.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  you've  brought 
us  here  against  our  wills  and  probably  got  me  into  dread- 
ful trouble,  and  you  don't  even  know  where  we  are  ?  " 

Mr  Bunker  looked  up  at  the  heavens  with  a  studious 
air. 

"One  ought  to  be  able  to  tell  something  of  our  where- 
abouts from  one  of  those  stars,"  he  replied;  "but,  to  tell 
the  truth,  I  don't  quite  know  which.  In  short,  madame, 
it  is  not  from  want  of  goodwill,  but  merely  through 
ignorance,  that  I  cannot  direct  you." 

The  lady  turned  impatiently  to  the  Baron. 

"  You've  helped  to  get  me  into  this  mess,'*  she  said, 
tartly.  "What  do  you  propose  to  do?" 


THE   LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  93 


"My  fairest " 

"Don't!"  she  interrupted,  stamping  her  foot  on  the 
frosty  road,  and  then  inconsequently  burst  into  tears. 
The  Baron  and  Mr  Bunker  looked  at  one  another. 

"  It  is  a  fine  night  for  a  walk,  and  the  cab,  I'm  afraid, 
is  smashed  beyond  hope  of  redemption.  Give  the  lady 
your  arm,  Baron;  we  must  eventually  arrive  somewhere." 

There  was  really  nothing  else  for  it,  so  leaving  the  horse 
and  cab  to  be  recovered  by  the  first  policeman  who  chanced 
to  pass,  they  set  out  on  foot.  At  last,  after  half  an  hour's 
ramble  through  the  solitudes  of  South  London,  a  belated 
cab  was  hailed  and  all  three  got  inside.  Once  on  her 
way  home,  the  lady's  indignation  again  gave  way  to 
fright. 

"What  am  I  to  do?  What  am  I  to  do?"  she  wailed. 
"  Oh,  whatever  will  my  husband  say  ?  " 

In  his  most  confident  and  irresistible  manner  Mr 
Bunker  told  her  he  would  make  matters  all  right  for  her 
at  whatever  cost  to  himself;  and  so  infectious  was  his 
assurance,  that,  when  at  last  they  reached  Eaton  Square, 
she  allowed  him  to  come  up  to  the  door  of  number  602. 
The  Baron  prudently  remained  in  the  cab,  for,  as  he  ex- 
plained, "My  English,  he  is  unsafe." 

After  a  prolonged  knocking  and  ringing  the  door  at 
length  opened,  and  an  irascible-looking,  middle-aged 
gentleman  appeared,  arrayed  in  a  dressing-gown. 

"Louisa!"  he  cried.  "What  the  dev — where  on  earth 
have  you  been  ?  The  police  are  looking  for  you  all  over 
London.  And  may  I  venture  to  ask  who  this  is  with 
you?" 


94  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

Mr  Bunker  bowed  slightly  and  raised  his  hat. 

"My  dear  sir,"  he  said,  "we  found  this  lady  in  a 
lamentable  state  of  intoxication  in  the  Tottenham  Court 
Road,  and  as  I  understand  you  have  a  kind  of  reversion- 
ary interest  in  her,  we  have  brought  her  here.  As  for 
you,  sir,  your  appearance  is  so  unprepossessing  that  I 
am  unable  to  remain  any  longer.  Good  night,"  and 
raising  his  hat  again  he  entered  the  cab  and  drove  off, 
assuring  the  Baron  that  matters  were  satisfactorily 
arranged. 

"So  you  have  had  your  adventure,  Baron,"  he  added, 
with  a  smile. 

For  a  minute  or  two  the  Baron  was  silent.  Then  he 
broke  into  a  cheerful  guffaw,  "Ha,  ha,  ha!  You  are  a 
fonny  devil,  Bonker!  Ach,  bot  it  vas  pleasant  vile  it 
lasted!" 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  few  days  passed  in  the  most  entertaining  manner. 
A  menu  of  amusements  was  regularly  prepared  suitable 
to  a  catholic  taste,  and  at  every  turn  the  Baron  was 
struck  by  the  enterprise  and  originality  of  his  friend. 
He  had,  however,  a  national  bent  for  serious  inquiry, 
and  now  and  then  doubts  crossed  his  mind  whether, 
with  all  his  moral  drawing,  he  was  acquiring  quite  as 
much  solid  information  as  he  had  set  out  to  gain.  This 
idea  grew  upon  him,  till  one  morning,  after  gazing  for 
some  time  at  the  English  newspaper  he  always  made  a 


THE   LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  95 

point  of  reading,  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  Bonker,  I  haf 
a  doubt!" 

"I  have  many,"  replied  Mr  Bunker;  "in  fact,  I  have 
few  positive  ideas  left." 

"Bot  mine  is  a  particulair  doubt.     Do  I  lairn  enoff?" 

"My  own  conception  of  enough  learning,  Baron,  is  a 
thing  like  a  threepenny-bit — the  smallest  coin  one  can  do 
one's  marketing  with." 

"And  yet,"  said  the  Baron,  solemnly,  "for  my  own 
share,  I  am  not  satisfied.  I  vould  lairn  more  of  ze  British 
institutions;  so  far  I  haf  lairned  of  ze  pleasures  only." 

"My  dear  Baron,  they  are  the  British  institutions." 

The  Baron  shook  his  head  and  fell  to  his  paper  again, 
while  Mr  Bunker  stretched  himself  on  the  sofa  and 
gazed  through  his  cigar-smoke  at  the  ceiling.  Suddenly 
the  Baron  gave  an  exclamation  of  horror. 

"  My  dear  Baron,  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"Yet  anozer  outrage!"  cried  the  Baron.  "Zese  an- 
archists, zey  are  too  scandalous.  At  all  ze  stations  zere 
are  detectives,  and  all  ze  ships  are  being  vatched.  Ach, 
it  is  terrible!" 

Mr  Bunker  seemed  struck  with  an  idea,  for  he  stared 
at  the  ceiling  without  making  any  reply,  and  his  eyes, 
had  the  Baron  seen  them,  twinkled  curiously. 

At  last  the  Baron  laid  down  his  paper. 

"Veil,  vat  shall  ve  do?"  he  asked. 

"Let  us  come  first  to  Liverpool  Street  Station,  if  you 
don't  mind,  Baron,"  his  friend  suggested.  "  I  have  some- 
thing in  the  cloak-room  there  I  want  to  pick  up." 

"My  dear  Bonker,  I  shall  go  vere  you  vill;  bot  re- 


96  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

member  I  vant  to-day  more  instrogtion  and  less  enter- 
tainment." 

"  You  wish  to  see  the  practical  side  of  English  life  ?  " 

"Yah — zat  is,  yes." 

Mr  Bunker  smiled. 

"Then  I  must  entertain  myself." 

As  they  drove  down  he  was  in  his  wittiest  humour, 
and  the  Baron,  in  spite  of  his  desire  for  instruction,  was 
more  charmed  with  his  friend  than  ever. 

"Vat  fonny  zing  vill  you  do  next,  eh?"  he  asked,  as 
they  walked  arm-in-arm  into  the  station. 

"I  am  no  more  the  humourist,  my  dear  Baron, — I 
shall  endeavour  to  edify  you." 

They  had  arrived  at  a  busy  hour,  when  the  platforms 
were  crowded  with  passengers  and  luggage.  A  train 
had  just  come  in,  and  around  it  the  bustle  was  at  its 
height,  and  the  confusion  most  bewildering. 

"Wait  for  me  here,"  said  Mr  Bunker;  "I  shall  be 
back  in  a  minute." 

He  started  in  the  direction  of  the  cloak-room,  and 
then,  doubling  back  through  the  crowd,  walked  down 
the  platform  and  stopped  opposite  a  luggage-van.  An 
old  gentleman,  beside  himself  with  irritation,  was  strug- 
gling with  the  aid  of  a  porter  to  collect  his  luggage,  and 
presently  he  left  the  pile  he  had  got  together  and  made 
a  rush  in  the  direction  of  a  large  portmanteau  that  was 
just  being  tumbled  out.  Instantly  Mr  Bunker  picked 
up  a  handbag  from  the  heap  and  walked  quickly  off 
with  it. 

"Here  you  are,  Baron,"  he  said,  as  he  came  up  to  his 


THE   LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  97 

friend.  "I  find  there  is  something  else  I  must  do,  so  do 
you  mind  holding  this  bag  for  a  few  minutes?  If  you 
will  walk  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  refreshment-rooms 
here,  I'll  find  you  more  easily.  Is  it  troubling  you  too 
much?" 

"Not  vun  bit,  Bonker.     I  am  in  your  sairvice." 

He  put  the  bag  into  the  Baron's  hand  with  his  pleasant- 
est  smile,  and  turned  away.  Rounding  a  corner,  he 
came  cautiously  back  again  through  the  crowd  and 
stepped  up  to  a  policeman. 

"  Keep  your  eye  on  that  man,  officer,"  he  said,  in  a  low 
confidential  voice,  and  an  air  of  quiet  authority,  "and 
put  your  plain  clothes'  men  on  his  track.  I  know  him 
for  one  of  the  most  dangerous  anarchists." 

The  man  started  and  stared  hard  at  the  Baron,  and 
presently  that  unconscious  nobleman,  pacing  the  plat- 
form in  growing  wonder  at  Mr  Bunker's  lengthy  absence, 
and  looking  anxiously  round  him  on  all  sides,  noticed 
with  surprise  that  a  number  of  quietly  dressed  men, 
with  no  apparent  business  in  the  station,  were  eyeing 
him  with,  it  seemed  to  him,  an  interest  that  approached 
suspicion.  In  time  he  grew  annoyed,  he  returned  their 
glances  with  his  haughtiest  and  most  indignant  look, 
and  finally,  stepping  up  to  one  of  them,  asked  in  no  friendly 
voice,  "  Vat  for  do  you  vatch  me  ? " 

The  man  returned  an  evasive  answer,  and  passing  one 
of  his  fellow-officers,  whispered,  "Foreign;  I  was  sure 
of  it." 

At  last  the  Baron  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  laying 
the  bag  down  by  the  door  of  the  refreshment-room, 


98  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

turned  hastily  away.  On  the  instant  Mr  Bunker,  who 
had  watched  these  proceedings  from  a  safe  distance, 
cried  in  a  loud  and  agonised  voice,  "Down  with  your 
men,  sergeant!  Down,  lie  down!  It  will  explode  in 
twenty  seconds!" 

And  as  he  spoke  he  threw  himself  flat  on  his  face. 
So  infectious  were  his  commanding  voice  and  his  note 
of  alarm  that  one  after  another,  detectives,  passengers, 
and  porters,  cast  themselves  at  full  length  on  the  plat- 
form. The  Baron,  filled  with  terror  of  anarchist  plots, 
was  one  of  the  first  to  prostrate  himself,  and  at  that  there 
could  be  no  further  doubt  of  the  imminence  of  the  peril. 

The  cabs  rattled  and  voices  sounded  from  outside; 
an  engine  whistled  and  shunted  at  a  far  platform,  but 
never  before  at  that  hour  of  the  day  had  Liverpool  Street 
Station  been  so  silent.  Ah*  held  their  breath  and  heard 
their  hearts  thump  as  they  gazed  in  horrible  fascination 
at  that  fatal  bag,  or  with  closed  eyes  stumbled  through 
a  hasty  prayer.  Fully  a  minute  passed,  and  the  suspense 
was  growing  intolerable,  when  with  a  loud  oath  an  old 
gentleman  rose  to  his  feet  and  walked  briskly  up  to  the 


"Have  a  care,  sir!  For  Heaven's  sake  have  a  care!" 
cried  Mr  Bunker;  but  the  old  gentleman  merely  bent 
over  the  terrible  object,  and,  picking  it  up,  exclaimed 
in  bewildered  wrath,  "It's  my  bag!  Who  the  devil 
brought  it  here,  and  what's  the  meaning  of  this  d — d 
nonsense  ?  " 

"Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!"  roared  Mr  Bunker;  while  like 
sheepish  mushrooms  the  people  sprang  up  on  all  sides. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  99 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  coming  up  to  the  old 
gentleman,  and  raising  his  hat  with  his  most  affable  air, 
"permit  me  to  congratulate  you  on  recovering  your  lost 
property,  and  allow  me  further  to  introduce  my  friend 
the  Baron  Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg." 

"Baron  von  damned-humbug!"  cried  the  old  gentle- 
man. "Did  you  take  my  bag,  sir?  and  if  so,  are  you  a 
thief  or  a  lunatic  ?  " 

For  an  instant  even  Mr  Bunker  himself  seemed  a  trifle 
taken  aback;  then  he  replied  politely,  "I  am  not  a  thief, 
sir." 

"Then  what  'ave  you  been  doing?"  demanded  the 
sergeant. 

"Merely  demonstrating  to  my  friend  the  Baron  the 
extraordinary  vigilance  of  the  English  police." 

For  a  time  neither  the  old  gentleman  nor  the  sergeant 
seemed  quite  capable  of  taking  the  same  view  of  the 
episode  as  Mr  Bunker,  and,  curiously  enough,  the  Baron 
seemed  not  disinclined  to  let  his  friend  extricate  himself 
as  best  he  could.  No  one,  however,  could  resist  Mr 
Bunker,  and  before  very  long  he  and  the  Baron  were 
driving  up  Bishopsgate  Street  together,  with  the  old 
gentleman's  four-wheeler  lumbering  in  front  of  them. 

"Well,  Baron,  are  you  satisfied  with  your  morning's 
instruction  ? "  asked  his  friend. 

"A  German  nobleman  is  not  used  to  be  in  soch  a 
position,"  replied  the  Baron,  stiffly. 

"You  must  admit,  however,  that  the  object-lesson  in 
the  detection  of  anarchy  was  neatly  presented." 

"  I  admit  nozing  of  ze  kind,"  said  the  Baron,  stolidly. 


100  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

For  the  rest  of  the  drive  he  sat  obdurately  silent.  He 
went  to  his  room  with  the  mien  of  an  offended  man. 
During  lunch  he  only  opened  his  lips  to  eat. 

On  his  side  Mr  Bunker  maintained  a  cheerful  com- 
posure, and  seemed  not  a  whit  put  about  by  his  friend's 
lack  of  appreciation. 

"Anozzer  bottle  of  claret,"  said  the  Baron,  gruffly,  to 
a  waiter. 

Mr  Bunker  let  him  consume  it  entirely  by  himself, 
awaiting  the  results  with  patience.  Gradually  his  face 
relaxed  a  little,  until  all  at  once,  when  the  bump  in  the 
bottom  of  the  bottle  was  beginning  to  appear  above  the 
wine,  the  whole  room  was  startled  by  a  stentorian,  "Ha, 
ha,  ha!" 

"My  dear  Bonker!"  cried  the  Baron,  when  he  had 
finished  laughing,  "forgif  me!  I  begin  for  to  see  ze 
moral,  ha,  ha,  ha!" 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Baron  expressed  no  further  wish  for  instruction, 
but,  instead,  he  began  to  show  a  desire  for  society. 

"  Doesn't  one  fool  suffice  ?  "  his  friend  asked. 

"Ach,  yes,  my  vise  fool;  ha,  ha,  ha!  Bot  sometimes 
I  haf  ze  craving  for  peoples,  museec,  dancing — in  vun 
vord,  society,  Bonker!" 

"But  this  is  not  the  season,  Baron.  You  wouldn't 
mix  with  any  but  the  best  society,  would  you  ?" 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  101 

"Zere  are  some  nobles  in  town.  In  my  paper  I  see 
Lord  zis,  Duke  of  zat,  in  London.  Pairhaps  my  intro- 
dogtions  might  be  here  now." 

This  suggestion  seemed  to  strike  Mr  Bunker  un- 
favourably. 

"  My  company  is  beginning  to  pall,  is  it,  Baron  ?  " 

"Ach,  no,  dear  Bonker!  I  vould  merely  go  out  jost 
vunce  or  tvice.  Haf  you  no  friends  now  in  town  ?  " 

An  idea  seemed  to  seize  Mr  Bunker. 

"Let  me  see  the  paper,"  he  said. 

After  perusing  it  carefully  for  a  little,  he  at  last  ex- 
claimed in  a  tone  of  pleased  discovery,  "Hullo!  I  see 
that  Lady  Tulliwuddle  is  giving  a  reception  and  dance 
to-night.  Most  of  the  smart  people  in  town  just  now 
are  sure  to  be  there.  Would  you  care  to  go,  Baron  ?  " 

"Ach,  surely,"  said  the  Baron,  eagerly.  "Bot  haf 
you  been  invited,  Bonker?" 

"Oh,  I  used  to  have  a  standing  invitation  to  Lady 
Tulliwuddle's  dances,  and  I'm  certain  she  would  be  glad 
to  see  me  again." 

"  Can  you  take  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  my  dear  Baron,  she  will  be  honoured." 

"  Goot ! "  cried  the  Baron.     "  Ve  shall  go." 

Mr  Bunker  explained  that  it  was  the  proper  thing  to 
arrive  very  late,  and  so  it  was  not  until  after  twelve  o'clock 
that  they  left  the  Hotel  Mayonaise  for  the  regions  of 
Belgravia.  The  Baron,  primed  with  a  bottle  of  cham- 
pagne, and  arrayed  in  a  costume  which  Mr  Bunker  had 
assured  him  was  the  very  latest  extreme  of  fashion,  and 
which  included  a  scarlet  watered  silk  waistcoat,  a  pair 


102     .       THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

of  white  silk  socks,  and  a  lavender  tie,  was  in  a  con- 
dition of  cheerfulness  verging  closely  on  hilarity.  Mr 
Bunker,  that,  as  he  said,  he  might  better  serve  as  a 
foil  to  his  friend's  splendour,  went  more  inconspicuously 
dressed,  but  was  likewise  well  charged  with  champagne. 
He  too  was  in  his  happiest  vein,  and  the  vision  of  the 
Baron's  finery  appeared  to  afford  him  peculiar  gratifica- 
tion. 

Their  hansom  stopped  in  front  of  a  large  and  gaily 
lit-up  mansion,  with  an  awning  leading  to  the  door, 
and  a  cluster  of  carriages  and  footmen  by  the  kerbstone. 
They  entered,  and  having  divested  themselves  of  their 
coats,  Mr  Bunker  proposed  that  they  should  immediately 
seek  the  supper-room. 

"  Bot  should  I  not  be  first  introduced  to  mine  hostess  ?  " 
asked  the  Baron. 

"My  dear  Baron!  a  formal  reception  of  the  guests  is 
entirely  foreign  to  English  etiquette." 

"Zo?    I  did  not  know  zat." 

The  supper-room  was  crowded,  and  having  secured  a 
table  with  some  difficulty,  Mr  Bunker  entered  immedi- 
ately into  conversation  with  a  solitary  young  gentleman 
who  was  consuming  a  plate  of  oysters.  Before  they  had 
exchanged  six  sentences  the  young  man  had  entirely 
succumbed  to  Mr  Bunker's  address,  aided  possibly  by 
the  young  man's  supper. 

"  Permit  me  to  introduce  my  friend  the  Baron  Rudolph 
von  Blitzenberg,  a  nobleman  strange  as  yet  to  England, 
but  renowned  throughout  his  native  land  alike  for  his 
talents  and  his  lofty  position,"  said  Mr  Bunker. 


THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  103 

"Ach,  my  good  friend,"  exclaimed  the  Baron,  grasping 
the  young  man's  hand,  "das  ist  Bonker's  vat  you  call 
nonsense;  hot  I  am  delighted,  zehr  delighted,  to  meet 
you,  and  if  you  gom  to  Bavaria  you  most  shoot  vid  me! 
Bravo!  Ha!" 

From  which  it  may  be  gathered  that  the  Baron  was  in 
a  genial  humour. 

"  Who  is  that  girl  ?  "  asked  Mr  Bunker,  pointing  to  an 
extremely  pretty  damsel  just  leaving  the  room. 

"  Oh,  that's  my  cousin,  Lady  Muriel  Hilton.  She's 
thought  rather  pretty,  I  believe,"  answered  the  young 
man. 

"  Do  you  mind  introducing  me  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  their  new  friend.     "Come  along." 

As  they  were  passing  through  the  room  a  little  incident 
occurred  that,  if  the  Baron's  perceptions  had  been  keener, 
might  have  given  him  cause  for  some  speculation.  Two 
men  standing  by  the  door  looked  hard  at  Mr  Bunker, 
and  then  at  each  other,  and  as  the  Baron  passed  them 
he  heard  one  say,  "  It  looks  devilish  like  him." 

"He  has  shaved,  then,"  said  the  other. 

"Evidently,"  replied  the  first  speaker;  "but  I  thought 
he  was  unlikely  to  appear  in  any  society  for  some  time." 

They  both  laughed,  and  the  Baron  heard  no  more. 

When  they  reached  the  ballroom  the  band  was  striking 
up  a  polka,  and  presently  Mr  Bunker,  with  his  accustomed 
grace,  was  tearing  round  the  room  with  Lady  Muriel, 
while  the  Baron — the  delight  of  all  eyes  in  his  red  waist- 
coat— led  out  her  sister.  In  a  very  short  time  the  other 
dancers  found  the  Baron  and  his  friend's  onslaught  so 


104  THE    LUNATIC    AT   LARGE 

vigorous  that  prudence  compelled  them  to  take  shelter 
along  the  wall,  and  from  a  safe  distance  admire  the 
evolutions  of  these  two  mysterious  guests. 

Mr  Bunker  was  enlivening  the  monotony  of  the  polka 
by  the  judicious  introduction  of  hornpipe  steps,  while 
the  Baron,  his  coat-tails  high  above  his  head,  shouted  and 
stamped  in  his  wild  career. 

"Do  stop  for  a  minute,  Baron,"  gasped  his  fair  partner. 

"Himmel,  nein!"  roared  the  Baron.  "I  haf  gom  here 
for  to  dance!  Ha,  Bonker,  ha!" 

At  last  Lady  Muriel  had  to  stop  through  sheer  exhaus- 
tion, but  Mr  Bunker,  merely  letting  her  go,  pursued  his 
solitary  way,  double-shuffling  and  kicking  unimpeded. 

The  Baron  stopped,  breathless,  to  admire  him.  Round 
and  round  he  went,  the  only  figure  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  his  arms  akimbo,  his  feet  rat-tatting  and  kicking 
to  the  music,  while  high  above  the  band  resounded  his 
friend's  shouts  of  "Bravo,  Bonker!  Wunderschbn! 
Gott  in  himmel,  higher,  higher!"  till  at  length,  missing 
the  wall  in  an  attempt  to  find  support,  the  Baron  dropped 
with  a  thud  into  a  sitting  posture  and  continued  his  dem- 
onstrations from  the  floor. 

Meanwhile  their  alarmed  hostess  was  holding  a  hasty 
consultation  with  her  husband,  and  when  the  music  at 
last  stopped  and  Mr  Bunker  was  advancing  with  his 
most  courteous  air  towards  his  late  partner,  Lord  Tulli- 
wuddle  stepped  up  to  him  and  touched  his  arm. 

"  May  I  speak  to  you,  sir  ?  "  he  said. 

"Certainly,"  replied  Mr  Bunker.  "I  shall  be  hon- 
oured. Excuse  me  for  one  moment,  Lady  Muriel." 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  105 

"At  whose  invitation  have  you  come  here  to-night?" 
demanded  his  host,  sternly. 

"I  have  the  pleasure  of  addressing  Lord  Tulliwuddle, 
have  I  not  ?  " 

"You  have,  sir." 

Mr  Bunker  bent  towards  him  and  whispered  some- 
thing in  his  ear. 

"From  Scotland  Yard?"  exclaimed  his  lordship. 

"Hush!"  said  Mr  Bunker,  glancing  cautiously  round 
the  room,  and  then  he  added,  with  an  air  of  impressive 
gravity,  "You  have  a  bathroom  on  the  third  floor,  I 
believe  ?  " 

"I  have,"  replied  his  host  in  great  surprise. 

"Has  it  a  bell?" 

"No,  I  believe  not." 

"Ah,  I  thought  so.  If  you  will  favour  me  by  coming 
up-stairs  for  a  minute,  my  Lord,  you  will  avoid  a  serious 
private  scandal.  Say  nothing  about  it  at  present  to  any 
one." 

In  blank  astonishment  and  some  alarm  Lord  Tulli- 
wuddle went  up  with  him  to  the  third  floor,  where  the 
house  was  still  and  the  sounds  of  revelry  reached  faintly. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  sir  ?  "  he  asked. 

"If  I  am  right  in  my  conjectures  you  will  need  no 
explanation  from  me,  my  Lord." 

His  lordship  opened  a  door,  and  turning  on  an  electric 
light,  revealed  a  small  and  ordinary-looking  bathroom. 

"Ha,  no  bell — excellent!"  said  Mr  Bunker. 

"What  are  you  doing  with  the  key?"  exclaimed  his 
host. 


106  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"Good  night,  my  Lord.  I  shall  tell  them  to  send  up 
breakfast  at  nine,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  and  stepping  quickly 
out,  he  shut  and  locked  the  door. 

A  minute  later  he  was  back  in  the  ballroom  looking 
anxiously  for  the  Baron,  but  that  nobleman  was  nowhere 
to  be  seen. 

"The  devil!"  he  said  to  himself.  "Can  they  have 
tackled  him  too?" 

But  as  he  ran  downstairs  a  gust  of  cheerful  laughter 
set  his  mind  at  ease. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  Vere  is  old  Bonker?  He  also  vill  shoot 
vid  me!" 

"Here  I  am,  my  dear  Baron,"  he  exclaimed  gaily, 
as  he  tracked  the  voice  into  the  supper-room. 

"Ach,  mine  dear  Bonker!"  cried  the  Baron,  folding 
him  in  his  muscular  embrace,  "I  haf  here  met  friends, 
ve  are  merry!  Ve  drink  to  Bavaria,  to  England,  to 
everyzing !" 

The  "friends"  consisted  of  two  highly  amused  young 
men  and  two  half-scandalised,  half-hysterical  ladies, 
into  the  midst  of  whose  supper-table  the  Baron  had  pro- 
jected himself  with  infectious  hilarity.  They  all  looked 
up  with  great  curiosity  at  Mr  Bunker,  but  that  gentleman 
was  not  in  the  least  put  about.  He  bowed  politely  to 
the  table  generally,  and  took  his  friend  by  the  arm. 

"  It  is  time  we  were  going,  Baron,  I'm  afraid,"  he  said. 

"  Vat  for  ?  Ah,  not  yet,  Bonker,  not  yet.  I  am  enjoy- 
ing myself  down  to  ze  floor.  I  most  dance  again,  Bonker, 
jost  vunce  more,"  pleaded  the  Baron. 

"My  dear  Baron,  the  noblemen  of  highest  rank  must 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  107 

always  leave  first,  and  people  are  talking  of  going  now. 
Come  along,  old  man." 

"Ha,  is  zat  so?"  said  the  Baron.  "Zen  vill  I  go. 
Good  night!"  he  cried,  waving  his  hand  to  the  room 
generally.  "Ven  you  gom  to  Bavaria  you  most  all 
shoot  vid  me.  Bravo,  my  goot  Bonker!  Ha!  ha!" 

As  they  turned  away  from  the  table,  one  of  the  young 
men,  who  had  been  looking  very  hard  at  Mr  Bunker, 
rose  and  touched  his  sleeve. 

"  I  say,  aren't  you ?  "  he  began. 

"Possibly  I  am,"  interrupted  Mr  Bunker,  "only  I 
haven't  the  slightest  recollection  of  the  fact." 

An  astonished  lady  was  indicated  by  Mr  Bunker  as 
the  hostess,  and  to  her  the  Baron  bade  an  affectionate 
adieu.  He  handed  a  sovereign  to  the  footman,  embraced 
the  butler,  and  as  they  sped  eastwards  in  their  hansom, 
a  rousing  chorus  from  the  two  friends  awoke  the  echoes 
of  Piccadilly. 

"Bravo,  Bonker!  Himmel,  I  haf  enjoyed  myself!" 
sighed  the  exhausted  Baron. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Baron  and  Mr  Bunker  discussed  a  twelve  o'clock 
breakfast  with  the  relish  of  men  who  had  done  a  good 
night's  work.  The  Baron  was  full  of  his  exploits.  "Ze 
lofly  Lady  Hilton"  and  his  new  "friends"  seemed  to 
have  made  a  vivid  impression. 


108  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

"Zey  vill  be  in  ze  Park  to-day,  of  course?"  he  sug- 
gested. 

"Possibly,"  replied  Mr  Bunker,  without  any  great 
.enthusiasm. 

"But  surely." 

"After  a  dance  it  is  rather  unlikely." 

"Ze  Lady  Hilton  did  say  she  vent  to  ze  Park." 

"To-day,  Baron?" 

"I  do  not  remember  to-day.  I  did  dance  so  hard  I 
was  not  perhaps  distinct.  But  I  shall  go  and  see." 

As  Mr  Bunker's  attempts  to  throw  cold  water  on  this 
scheme  proved  quite  futile,  he  made  a  graceful  virtue  of 
necessity,  dressed  himself  with  care,  and  set  out  in  the 
afternoon  for  the  Park.  They  had  only  walked  as  far 
as  Piccadilly  Circus  when  in  the  crowd  at  the  corner  his 
eye  fell  upon  a  familiar  figure.  It  was  the  burly,  red- 
faced  man. 

"The  devil!    Moggridge  again!"  he  muttered. 

For  a  moment  he  thought  they  were  going  to  pass 
unobserved:  then  the  man  turned  his  head  their  way, 
and  Mr  Bunker  saw  him  start.  He  never  looked  over 
his  shoulder,  but  after  walking  a  little  farther  he  called 
the  Baron's  attention  to  a  shop  window,  and  they  stopped 
to  look  at  it.  Out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  he  saw  Mog- 
gridge about  twenty  yards  behind  them  stopping  too. 
He  was  glancing  towards  them  very  doubtfully.  Evi- 
dently his  mind  was  not  yet  made  up,  and  at  once  Mr 
Bunker's  fertile  brain  began  to  revolve  plans. 

A  little  farther  on  they  paused  before  another  window, 
and  exactly  the  same  thing  happened.  Then  Mr  Bunker 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  109 

made  up  his  mind.  He  looked  carefully  at  the  cabs, 
and  at  last  observed  a  smart-looking  young  man  driving 
a  fresh  likely  horse  at  a  walking  pace  beside  the  pavement. 

He  caught  the  driver's  eye  and  raised  his  stick,  and 
turning  suddenly  to  the  Baron  with  a  gesture  of  annoy- 
ance, exclaimed,  "Forgive  my  rudeness,  Baron,  I'm 
afraid  I  must  leave  you.  I  had. clean  forgotten  an  im- 
portant engagement  in  the  city  for  this  afternoon." 

"Appointment  in  ze  city?"  said  the  Baron  in  con- 
siderable surprise.  "I  did  not  know  you  had  friends 
in  ze  city." 

"I  have  just  heard  from  my  father's  man  of  business, 
and  I'm  afraid  it  would  be  impolitic  not  to  see  him.  Do 
you  mind  if  I  leave  you  here  ?  " 

"Surely,  my  dear  fellow,  I  vould  not  stop  you.  Al- 
ready I  feel  at  home  by  myself." 

"  Then  we  shall  meet  at  the  hotel  before  dinner.  Good 
luck  with  the  ladies,  Baron." 

Mr  Bunker  jumped  into  the  cab,  saying  only  to  the 
driver,  "  To  the  city,  as  quick  as  you  can." 

"What  part,  sir?" 

"Oh,  say  the  Bank.     Hurry  up!" 

Then  as  the  man  whipped  up,  Mr  Bunker  had  a  glimpse 
of  Moggridge  hailing  another  cab,  and  peeping  cautiously 
through  the  little  window  at  the  back  he  saw  him  starting 
in  hot  pursuit.  He  took  five  shillings  out  of  his  pocket 
and  opened  the  trap-door  in  the  roof. 

"Do  you  see  that  other  cab  chasing  us,  with  a  red- 
faced  man  inside?" 

"Yes,  sir." 


110  THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE 

Mr  Bunker  handed  his  driver  the  money. 

"Get  rid  of  him,  then.  Take  me  anywhere  through 
the  city  you  like,  and  when  he's  off  the  scent  let  me 
know." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  replied  the  driver,  cracking  his  whip 
till  his  steed  began  to  move  past  the  buses  and  the  other 
cabs  like  a  train. 

On  they  flew,  clatter  and  jingle,  twisting  like  a  snipe 
through  the  traffic.  Mr  Bunker  perceived  that  he  had  a 
good  horse  and  a  good  driver,  and  he  smiled  in  pleasant 
excitement.  He  lit  a  cigar,  leaned  his  arms  on  the  doors, 
and  settled  himself  to  enjoy  the  race. 

The  black  lions  of  Trafalgar  Square  flew  by,  then 
the  colossal  hotels  of  Northumberland  Avenue  and  the 
railway  bridge  at  Charing  Cross,  and  they  were  going 
at  a  gallop  along  the  Embankment.  He  got  swift  glimpses 
of  other  cabs  and  foot-passengers,  the  trees  seemed  to 
flit  past  like  telegraph-posts  on  a  railway,  the  barges  and 
lighters  on  the  river  dropped  one  by  one  behind  them: 
it  was  a  fair  course  for  a  race,  with  never  a  check  before 
Blackfriar's  Bridge. 

As  they  turned  into  Queen  Victoria  Street  he  opened 
the  lid  and  asked,  "  Are  they  still  in  sight  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  I'm  afraid  we  ain't  gaining  much  yet.  But 
I'll  do  it,  sir,  no  fears." 

Mr  Bunker  lay  back  and  laughed. 

"This  is  better  than  the  Park,"  he  said  to  himself. 

They  had  a  fine  drive  up  Queen  Victoria  Street  before 
they  plunged  into  the  whirlpool  of  traffic  at  the  Bank. 
They  were  slowly  making  their  way  across  when  the 


THE   LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  111 

driver,  spying  an  opening  in  another  stream,  abruptly 
wheeled  round  for  Cornhill,  and  presently  they  were  off 
again  at  top  speed. 

"Thrown  them  off?"  asked  Mr  Bunker. 

"Tried  to,  sir,  but  they  were  too  sharp  and  got  clear 
away  too." 

Mr  Bunker  saw  that  it  was  going  to  be  a  stern  chase, 
and  laughed  again.  In  order  that  he  might  not  show 
ostensibly  that  he  was  running  away,  he  resisted  the 
temptation  of  having  another  peep  through  the  back, 
and  resigned  himself  to  the  chances  of  the  chase. 

Through  and  through  the  lanes  and  byways  of  the  city 
they  drove,  and  after  each  double  the  answer  from  the 
box  was  always  the  same.  The  cab  behind  could  not  be 
shaken  off. 

"  Work  your  way  round  to  Holborn  and  try  a  run  west," 
Mr  Bunker  suggested. 

So  after  a  little  they  struck  Newgate  Street,  and  presently 
their  steed  stretched  himself  again  in  Holborn  Viaduct. 

"  Gaining  now,  cabby  ?  " 

"A  little,  sir,  I  think." 

Mr  Bunker  sat  placidly  till  they  were  well  along  Hol- 
born before  he  inquired  again. 

"Can't  get  rid  of  'im  no  'ow.  Afride  it  ain't  much 
good,  sir." 

Mr  Bunker  passed  up  five  shillings  more. 

"Keep  your  tail  up.  You'll  do  it  yet,"  he  exhorted. 
"Try  a  turn  north;  you  may  bother  him  among  the 
squares." 

So  they  doubled  north,  and  as  the  evening  closed  in 


112  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

their  wearied  horse  was  lashed  through  a  maze  of  mo- 
notonous streets  and  tarnished  Bloomsbury  Squares. 
And  still  the  other  cab  stuck  to  their  trail.  But  when 
they  emerged  on  the  Euston  Road,  Mr  Bunker  was  as 
cheerful  as  ever. 

"They  can't  last  much  longer,"  he  said  to  his  driver. 
"Turn  up  Regent's  Park  way." 

A  little  later  he  put  the  usual  question  and  got  the 
same  unvarying  answer. 

The  horse  was  evidently  beginning  to  fail,  and  he  saw 
that  this  chariot-race  must  soon  come  to  an  end.  The 
street-lamps  and  the  shop  windows  were  all  lit  up  by  this 
time,  and  the  dusk  was  pretty  thick.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  he  might  venture  to  try  his  luck  on  foot,  and  he 
began  to  look  out  for  an  opening  where  a  cab  could  not 
follow. 

They  were  flogging  along  a  noisy  stone-paved  road 
where  there  was  little  other  traffic;  on  one  side  stood  an 
unbroken  row  of  houses,  and  on  the  other  were  small 
semi-detached  villas  with  little  strips  of  garden  about 
them.  All  at  once  he  saw  a  doctor's  red  lamp  over  the 
door  of  one  of  these  half  villas,  and  an  inspiration  came 
upon  him. 

"  One  can  always  visit  a  doctor,"  he  said  to  himself,  and 
smiled  in  great  amusement  at  something  in  the  reflection. 

He  stopped  the  cab,  handed  the  man  half  a  sovereign, 
and  saying  only,  "Drive  away  again,  quickly,"  jumped 
out,  glanced  at  the  name  on  the  plate,  and  pulled  the  bell. 
As  he  waited  on  the  step  he  saw  the  other  cab  stop  a  little 
way  back,  and  his  pursuer  emerge. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  113 

A  frowsy  little  servant  opened  the  door. 
"  Is  Dr  Twiddel  at  home  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  Dr  Twiddel's  abroad,  sir,"  said  the  maid. 
"No  one  hi  at  all,  then?" 

"Dr  Billson  sees  'is  patients,  sir — w'en  there  his  any." 
"  When  do  you  expect  Dr  Billson  ?  " 
"  In  about  an  hour,  sir,  'e  usually  comes  hin." 
"Excellent!"    thought   Mr   Bunker.     Aloud   he   said, 
Well,  I'm  a  patient.     I'll  come  in  and  wait." 
He  stepped  in,  and  the  door  banged  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"This  w'y,  sir,"  said  the  maid,  and  Mr  Bunker  found 
himself  in  the  little  room  where  this  story  opened. 

The  moment  he  was  alone  he  went  to  the  window  and 
peeped  cautiously  between  the  slats  of  the  Venetian  blind. 

The  street  was  quiet,  both  cabs  had  disappeared,  and 
for  a  minute  or  two  he  could  see  nothing  even  of  Mog- 
gridge.  Then  a  figure  moved  carefully  from  the  shelter 
of  a  bush  a  little  way  down  the  railings,  and,  after  a  quick 
look  at  the  house,  stepped  back  again. 

"  He  means  to  play  the  waiting  game,"  said  Mr  Bunker 
to  himself.  "Long  may  you  wait,  my  wary  Moggridge!" 

He  took  a  rapid  survey  of  the  room.  He  saw  the 
medical  library,  the  rented  furniture,  and  the  unlit  gas- 
stove;  and  at  last  his  eye  fell  upon  a  box  of  cigarettes. 
To  one  of  these  he  helped  himself  and  leaned  his  back 
against  the  mantelpiece. 


114  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"There  must  be  at  least  one  room  at  the  back,"  he 
reflected;  "that  room  must  have  a  window,  and  beyond 
that  window  there  is  all  London  to  turn  to.  Friend 
Moggridge,  I  trust  you  are  prepared  to  spend  the  evening 
behind  your  bush." 

He  had  another  look  through  the  blind  and  shook  his 
head. 

"A  little  too  light  yet, — I'd  better  wait  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  or  so." 

To  while  away  the  time  he  proceeded  to  make  a  tour  of 
the  room,  for,  as  he  said  to  himself,  when  in  an  unknown 
country  any  information  may  possibly  come  in  useful. 
There  was  nothing  whatever  from  which  he  could  draw 
even  the  most  superficial  deduction  till  he  came  to  the 
writing-desk.  Here  a  heap  of  bills  were  transfixed  by  a 
long  skewer,  and  at  his  first  glance  at  the  uppermost  his 
face  assumed  an  expression  of  almost  ludicrous  bewilder- 
ment. He  actually  rubbed  his  eyes  before  he  looked  a 
second  time. 

"One  dozen  shirts,"  he  read,  "four  under-flannels, 
four  pair  socks,  one  dozen  handkerchiefs,  two  sleeping- 
suits — marked  Francis  Beveridge!  the  account  rendered 
to  Dr  G.  Twiddel!  What  in  the  name  of  wonderment 
is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  " 

He  sat  down  with  the  bill  in  his  hand  and  gazed  hard 
at  it. 

"  Precisely  my  outfit,"  he  said  to  himself. 

"Am  I— Does  it ?    What  a  rum  thing!" 

He  sat  for  about  ten  minutes  looking  hard  at  the  floor. 
Then  he  burst  out  laughing,  resumed  in  a  moment  his 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  115 

air  of  philosophical  opportunism,  and  set  about  a  further 
search  of  the  desk.  He  looked  at  the  bills  and  seemed  to 
find  nothing  more  to  interest  him.  Then  he  glanced  at 
one  or  two  letters  in  the  drawers,  threw  the  first  few  back 
again,  and  at  last  paused  over  one. 

"Twiddel  to  Billson,"  he  said  to  himself.  "This 
may  possibly  be  worth  looking  at." 

It  was  dated  more  than  a  month  back  from  the  town 
of  Fogelschloss. 

"Dear  Tom,"  it  ran,  "we  are  having  an  A  1  time. 
Old  Welsh  is  in  splendid  form,  doing  the  part  to  perfec- 
tion. He  has  never  given  himself  away  yet,  not  even 
when  drunk,  which,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  he  has  been  too 
often.  But  then  old  Welsh  is  so  funny  when  he  is  drunk 
that  it  makes  him  all  the  more  like  the  original,  or  at 
least  what  the  original  is  supposed  to  be. 

"Of  course  we  don't  dare  to  venture  into  places  where 
we  would  see  too  many  English.  This  is  quite  an  amus- 
ing place  for  a  German  town,  some  baths  and  a  kind  of 
a  gambling-table,  and  some  pretty  girls — for  Germans. 
There  is  a  sporting  aristocrat  here,  in  an  old  castle,  who 
is  very  friendly,  and  is  much  impressed  with  Welsh's 
account  of  his  family  plate  and  deer-forest,  and  has  asked 
us  once  or  twice  to  come  out  and  see  him.  We  are  no 
end  of  swells,  I  assure  you. 

"Ta,  ta,  old  chap.  Hope  the  practice  prospers  in 
your  hands.  Don't  kill  all  the  patients  before  I  come 
back. — Ever  thine,  GEORGE  TWIDDEL." 

"From  this  I  conclude  that  Dr  Twiddel  is  on  the 
festive  side  of  forty,"  he  reflected;  "there  are  elements 
of  mystery  and  a  general  atmosphere  of  alcohol  about 
it,  but  that's  all,  I'm  afraid." 


116  THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

He  put  it  back  in  the  drawer,  but  the  bill  he  slipped 
into  his  pocket. 

"And  now,"  thought  he,  "it  is  time  I  made  the  first 
move." 

After  waiting  for  a  minute  or  two  to  make  sure  that 
everything  was  quiet,  he  gently  stepped  out  into  a  little 
linoleum-carpeted  hall.  On  the  right  hand  was  the 
front  door,  on  the  left  two  others  that  must,  he  thought, 
open  into  rooms  on  the  back.  He  chose  the  nearer  at  a 
venture,  and  entered  boldly.  It  was  quite  dark.  He 
closed  the  door  again  softly,  struck  a  match,  and  looked 
round  the  room.  It  seemed  to  be  Dr  Twiddel's  dining- 
and  sitting-room. 

"Pipes,  photographs,  well-sat-in  chairs,"  he  observed, 
"  and  a  window." 

He  pulled  aside  the  blind  and  looked  out  into  the  dark- 
ness of  a  strip  of  back-garden.  For  a  minute  he  listened 
intently,  but  no  sound  came  from  the  house.  Then  he 
threw  up  the  sash  and  scrambled  out.  It  was  quite  dark 
by  this  time:  he  was  enclosed  between  two  rows  of  vague, 
black  houses,  with  bright  windows  here  and  there,  and 
chimney-cans  faintly  cutting  their  uncouth  designs  among 
a  few  pale  London  stars.  The  space  between  was  filled 
with  the  two  lines  of  little  gardens  and  the  ranks  of  walls, 
and  in  the  middle  the  black  chasm  of  a  railway  cutting. 

A  frightened  cat  bolted  before  him  as  he  hurried  down 
to  the  foot  of  the  strip,  but  that  was  all  the  life  he  saw. 
He  looked  over  the  wall  right  into  the  deep  crevasse. 
A  little  way  off,  on  the  one  hand,  hung  a  cluster  of  signal- 
lights,  and  the  shining  rails  reflected  them  all  along  to 


THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  117 

the  mouth  of  a  tunnel  on  the  other.  Turning  his  head 
this  way  and  that,  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  anywhere 
else  but  garden  wall  after  garden  wall. 

"It's  a  choice  between  a  hurdle-race  through  these 
gardens,  a  cat-walk  along  this  wall,  and  a  descent  into 
the  cutting,"  he  reflected.  "The  walls  look  devilish  high 
and  the  cutting  devilish  deep.  Hang  me  if  I  know 
which  road  to  take." 

While  he  was  still  debating  this  somewhat  perplexing 
question,  he  felt  the  ground  begin  to  quiver  under  him. 
Through  the  hum  of  London  there  gradually  arose  a 
louder  roar,  and  in  a  minute  the  head-lights  of  an  engine 
flashed  out  of  the  tunnel.  One  after  another  a  string  of 
bright  carriages  followed  it,  each  more  slowly  than  the 
carriage  in  front,  till  the  whole  train  was  at  a  standstill 
below  him  with  the  red  signal-lamp  against  it. 

In  an  instant  his  decision  was  taken.  At  the  peril  of 
life  and  garments  he  scrambled  down  the  rocky  bank, 
picking  as  he  went  an  empty  first-class  compartment, 
and  just  as  the  train  began  to  move  again  he  swung  him- 
self up  and  sprang  into  a  carriage. 

Unfortunately  he  had  chosen  the  wrong  one  in  his 
haste,  and  as  he  opened  the  door  he  saw  a  comical  vision 
of  a  stout  little  old  gentleman  huddling  into  the  farther 
corner  in  the  most  dire  consternation. 

"Who  are  you,  sir?  What  do  you  want,  sir?"  splut- 
tered the  old  gentleman.  "If  you  come  any  nearer  me, 
sir — one  step,  sir! — I  shall  instantly  communicate  with 
the  guard!  I  have  no  money  about  me.  Go  away, 
sir!" 


118  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"I  regret  to  learn  that  you  have  no  money,"  replied 
Mr  Bunker,  imperturbably;  "but  I  am  sorry  that  I  am 
not  at  present  in  a  condition  to  offer  a  loan." 

He  sat  down  and  smiled  amicably,  but  the  little  gentle- 
man was  not  to  be  quieted  so  easily.  Seeing  that  no 
violence  was  apparently  intended,  his  fright  changed  into 
respectable  indignation. 

"You  needn't  try  to  be  funny  with  me,  sir.  You  are 
committing  an  illegal  act.  You  have  placed  yourself  in 
an  uncommonly  serious  position,  sir." 

"Indeed,  sir?"  replied  Mr  Bunker.  "I  myself  should 
have  imagined  that  by  remaining  on  the  rails  I  should 
have  been  much  more  seriously  situated." 

The  old  gentleman  looked  at  him  like  an  angry  small 
dog  that  longs  to  bite  if  it  only  dared. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  illegal  intrusion?"  he 
demanded.  "  Who  are  you  ?  Where  did  you  come 
from?" 

"I  had  the  misfortune,  sir,"  explained  Mr  Bunker, 
politely,  "  to  drop  my  hat  out  of  the  window  of  a  neighbour- 
ing carriage.  While  I  was  picking  it  up  the  train  started, 
and  I  had  to  enter  the  first  compartment  I  could  find.  I 
am  sorry  that  my  entry  frightened  you." 

"Frightened  me!"  spluttered  the  old  gentleman.  "I 
am  not  afraid,  sir.  I  am  an  honest  man  who  need  fear 
no  one,  sir.  I  do  not  believe  you  dropped  your  hat.  It 
is  perfectly  uninjured." 

"It  may  be  news  to  you,  sir,"  replied  Mr  Bunker, 
"  that  by  gently  yet  firmly  passing  the  sleeve  of  your  coat 
round  your  hat  in  the  direction  of  the  nap,  it  is  possible 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  119 

to  restore  the  gloss.  Thus,"  and  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word  he  took  off  his  hat,  drew  his  coat-sleeve  across 
it,  and  with  a  genial  smile  at  the  old  gentleman,  replaced 
it  on  his  head. 

But  his  neighbour  was  evidently  of  that  truculent  dis- 
position which  merely  growls  at  blandishments.  He 
snorted  and  replied  testily,  "  That  is  all  very  well,  sir,  but 
I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it." 

"If  you  prefer  it,  then,  I  fell  off  the  telegraph  wires  in 
an  attempt  to  recover  my  boots." 

The  old  gentleman  became  purple  in  the  face. 

"Have  a  care,  sir!  I  am  a  director  of  this  company, 
and  at  the  next  station  I  shall  see  that  you  give  a  proper 
account  of  yourself.  And  here  we  are,  sir.  I  trust  you 
have  a  more  credible  story  in  readiness." 

As  he  spoke  they  drew  up  beside  an  underground 
platform,  and  the  irascible  old  gentleman,  with  a  very 
threatening  face  that  was  not  yet  quite  cleared  of  alarm, 
bustled  out  in  a  prodigious  hurry.  Mr  Bunker  lay  back 
in  his  seat  and  replied  with  a  smile,  "I  shall  be  delighted 
to  tell  any  story  within  the  bounds  of  strict  propriety." 

But  the  moment  he  saw  the  irate  director  disappear 
in  the  crowd  he  whipped  out  too,  and  with  the  least 
possible  delay  transferred  himself  into  a  third-class 
carriage. 

From  his  seat  near  the  window  he  watched  the  old 
gentleman  hurry  back  with  three  officials  at  his  heels, 
and  hastily  search  each  first-class  compartment  in  turn. 
The  last  one  was  so  near  him  that  he  could  hear  his  friend 
say,  "Damn  it,  the  rascal  has  bolted  in  the  crowd!" 


120  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

And  with  that  the  four  of  them  rushed  off  to  the  barrier 
to  intercept  or  pursue  this  suspicious  character.  Then 
the  whistle  blew,  and  as  the  train  moved  off  Mr  Bunker 
remarked  complacently,  if  a  little  mysteriously,  to  him- 
self, "Well,  whoever  I  am,  it  would  seem  I'm  rather 
difficult  to  catch." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Mr  Bunker  arrived  at  the  Hotel  Mayonaise  in  what, 
from  his  appearance,  was  an  unusually  reflective  state  of 
mind  for  him.  The  other  visitors,  many  of  whom  had 
begun  to  regard  him  and  his  noble  friend  with  great 
interest,  saw  him  pass  through  the  crowd  in  the  hall 
and  about  the  lifts  with  a  thoughtful  air.  He  went 
straight  to  the  Baron's  room.  Outside  the  door  he 
paused  for  an  instant  to  set  his  face  in  a  cheerful  smile, 
and  then  burst  gaily  in  upon  his  friend. 

"Well,  my  dear  Baron!"  he  cried,  "what  luck  in  the 
Park?" 

The  Baron  was  pulling  his  moustache  over  an  English 
novel.  He  laid  down  his  book  and  frowned  at  Mr  Bunker. 

"I  do  not  onderstand  your  English  vays,"  he  replied. 

Mr  Bunker  perceived  that  something  was  very  much 
amiss,  nor  was  he  without  a  suspicion  of  the  cause.  He 
laughed,  however,  and  asked,  "What's  the  matter,  old 
man?" 

"I  vent  to  ze  Park,"  said  the  Baron,  with  a  solemn 
deliberation  that  evidently  came  hardly  to  him.  "I 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  121 

entered  ze  Park.  I  vas  dressed,  as  you  know,  viz  taste 
and  appropriety.  I  vas  sober,  as  you  know.  I  valked 
under  ze  trees,  and  I  looked  agreeably  at  ze  people. 
Goddam!" 

"My  dear  Baron!"  expostulated  Mr  Bunker. 

The  Baron  resumed  his  intense  composure  with  a 
great  effort. 

"  Not  long  vas  ven  I  see  ze  Lady  Hilton  drive  past  mit 
ze  ozzer  Lady  Hilton  and  vun  old  lady.  I  raise  my 
hat — no  bow  from  zem.  'Pairhaps,'  I  zink,  'zey  see  me 
not.'  Zey  stop  by  ze  side  to  speak  viz  a  gentleman.  I 
gomed  up  and  again  I  raise  my  hat  and  I  say,  'How  do 
you  do,  Lady  Hilton?  I  hope  you  are  regovered  from 
ze  dance.'  Zat  was  gorrect,  vas  it  not?" 

"Perfectly,"  replied  Mr  Bunker,  with  great  gravity. 

"Zen  vy  did  ze  Lady  Hilton  schream  and  ze  ozzer 
Lady  Hilton  cry,  'Ach,  zat  German  man!'  And  vy  did 
ze  old  lady  schream  to  ze  gentleman,  '  Send  him  avay  ! 
How  dare  you  ?  Insolence ! '  and  suchlike  vords  ?  " 

"What  remarkable  conduct,  my  dear  Baron!"  said 
Mr  Bunker. 

"  Remargable ! "  roared  the  justly  incensed  Baron. 
"Is  it  not  more  zan  remargable?  Donner  und  blitzen! 
Mon  Dieu !  Blood !  I  know  not  ze  English  vord  so  bad 
enoff  for  soch  conduct." 

"It  must  have  been  a  joke,"  his  friend  suggested, 
soothingly. 

"Vun  dashed  bad  joke,  zen!  Ze  gentleman  said  to 
me,  *  Get  out  of  zis,  you  rasgal ! '  '  Vat  mean  you,  sare  ? ' 
say  I.  'You  know  quite  veil,'  said  he.  'Glear  out!' 


122  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

So  I  gave  him  my  card  and  tell  him  I  would  be  glad  to 
see  his  frient  zat  he  should  send,  for  zat  I  vas  not  used 
to  be  called  zo.  Zen  I  raise  my  hat  to  ze  Lady  Hilton 
and  say,  'Adieu,  madame,  I  know  now  ze  English  lady,' 
and  I  valk  on.  Himmel!" 

"  What  a  very  extraordinary  affair,  Baron ! " 

The  Baron  grunted  with  inarticulate  indignation  and 
nearly  pulled  his  moustache  out  by  the  roots.  Abruptly 
he  broke  out  again,  "English  ladies?  I  do  not  believe 
zey  are  ladies!  Never  haf  I  been  treated  zo!  Vat  do 
you  mean,  Bonker,  by  taking  me  among  soch  peoples  ? " 

"7,  my  dear  Baron?  It  was  not  I  who  introduced 
you  to  the  Hiltons.  I  never  saw  them  before." 

The  difficulty  of  attaching  any  blame  to  his  friend 
seemed  to  have  anything  but  a  soothing  effect  on  the 
Baron.  You  could  almost  fancy  that  you  heard  his  tail 
lash  the  floon 

"Zat  vas  not  all,"  he  continued,  after  a  short  struggle 
with  his  wrath.  "I  valked  on,  and  soon  I  see  two  of  ze 
frients  I  made  last  night  at  supper." 

"Which  two?" 

"Ze  yong  man  zat  spoke  to  you  ven  you  rise  from  ze 
table,  and  vun  of  ze  ladies.  Again  I  raise  my  hat  and 
say,  'How  do  you  do?  I  hope  zat  you  are  regovered 
from  ze  dance.'  Zat  is  gorrect,  you  say?" 

"  Under  most  circumstances." 

"Ze  man  stared  at  me,  and  ze  voman — I  vill  not  say 
lady — says  to  him  zo  zat  I  can  hear,  '  Zat  awful  German ! ' 
Ze  man  says,  'Zo  it  is,'  and  laughed.  'I  haf  ze  pleasure 
of  meeting  you  last  night  at  ze  Lady  Tollyvoddle,'  I  said. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  123 

'I  remember,'  he  said;  'but  I  haf  no  vish  to  meet  you 
again.'  I  take  out  my  card  to  gif  him,  but  he  only  said, 
'Go  avay,  or  I  vill  call  ze  police!'  'Ze  police!  To  me, 
Baron  von  Blitzenberg!  Teufel!'  I  replied." 

"  And  that  was  all,  Baron  ? "  asked  Mr  Bunker,  in 
what  seemed  rather  like  a  tone  of  relief. 

"No;  suddenly  he  did  turn  back  and  said,  'By  ze  vay, 
who  vas  zat  viz  you  last  night?'  To  vich  I  replied, 
'If  you  address  me  again,  my  man,  I  vill  call  ze  police. 
Go  avay!'" 

"Bravo,  Baron!  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Excellent!"  laughed 
Mr  Bunker. 

This  applause  served  to  reinstate  the  Baron  a  little  in 
his  own  good  opinion.  He  laughed  too,  though  rather 
noisily  than  heartily,  and  suddenly  became  grave  again. 

"Vat  means  zis,  Bonker?  Vat  haf  I  done?  Vy 
should  zey  treat  me  zo?" 

"Well,  you  see,  my  dear  Baron,"  his  friend  explained, 
"  I  ought  to  have  warned  you  that  it  is  not  usual  in  Eng- 
land to  address  ladies  you  have  met  at  a  dance  without 
some  direct  invitation  on  their  part.  At  the  same  time, 
it  is  evident  that  the  Hiltons  and  the  other  man,  who  of 
course  must  be  connected  with  the  Foreign  Office,  are 
aware  of  some  sudden  strain  in  the  diplomatic  relations 
between  England  and  Germany,  which  as  yet  is  unknown 
to  the  public.  Your  ancient  name  and  your  high  rank 
have  naturally  led  them  to  conclude  that  you  are  an  agent 
of  the  German  Government,  and  an  international  sig- 
nificance was  of  course  attached  to  your  presence  in  the 
Park.  I  certainly  think  they  took  a  most  outrageous 


124  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

advantage  of  a  trifling  detail  of  etiquette  to  repulse  you; 
but  then  you  must  remember,  Baron,  that  their  families 
might  have  been  seriously  compromised  with  the  Govern- 
ment if  they  had  been  seen  with  so  prominent  a  member 
of  the  German  aristocracy  in  the  middle  of  Hyde  Park." 

"Zo?"  said  the  Baron,  thoughtfully.  "I  begin  to 
onderstand.  My  name,  as  you  say,  is  cairtainly  dis- 
tinguished. Bot  zen  should  I  remain  in  London?" 

"Just  what  I  was  wondering,  Baron.  What  do  you 
say  to  a  trip  down  to  St  Egbert's-on-Sea  ?  It's  a  very 
select  watering-place,  and  we  might  spend  a  week  or  two 
there  very  pleasantly." 

"Egxellent!"  said  the  Baron;  "ven  shall  we  start?" 

"To-morrow  morning." 

"Goot!  zo  let  it  be.  I  am  tired  of  London  and  of  ze 
English  ladies'  manners.  Police  to  ze  Baron  von  Blitzen- 
berg!  Ve  shall  go  to  St  Egbert's,  Bonker!" 


PART  III 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  Baron  and  Mr  Bunker  walked  arm-in-arm 
along  the  esplanade  at  St  Egbert's-on-Sea. 
"  Aha!  "  said  the  Baron,  "  zis  is  more  fresh  zan 
London!" 

"Yes,"  replied  his  friend;  "we  are  now  in  the  presence 
of  that  stimulating  element  which  provides  patriotic  Brit- 
ons with  music-hall  songs,  and  dyspeptic  Britons  with  an 
appetite." 

A  stirring  breeze  swept  down  the  long  white  esplanade, 
threatening  hats  and  troubling  skirts;  the  pale-green 
south-coast  sea  rumbled  up  the  shingle;  the  day  was 
bright  and  pleasant  for  the  time  of  year,  and  drove  the 
Baron's  mischances  from  his  head;  altogether  it  seemed 
to  Mr  Bunker  that  the  omens  were  good.  They  were 
both  dressed  in  the  smartest  of  tweed  suits,  and  walked 
jauntily,  like  men  who  knew  their  own  value.  Every 
now  and  then,  as  they  passed  a  pretty  face,  the  Baron 
would  say,  "Aha,  Bonker!  zat  is  not  so  bad,  eh?" 

And  Mr  Bunker,  who  seemed  not  unwilling  that  his 
friend  should  find  some  entertaining  distraction  in  St 
Egbert's,  would  look  at  the  owners  of  these  faces  with  a 
prospector's  eye  and  his  own  unrivalled  assurance. 

126 


126  THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

They  had  walked  up  and  down  three  or  four  times, 
when  a  desire  for  a  different  species  of  diversion  began 
to  overtake  the  Baron.  It  was  the  one  kind  of  desire 
that  the  Baron  never  even  tried  to  wrestle  with. 

"My  vriend  Bonker,"  said  he,  "is  it  not  somevere 
about  time  for  loncheon,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  it  was  precisely  the  hour." 

"Ha,  ha!  zen,  let  us  gom  and  eat.  Himmel,  zis  sea 
is  ze  fellow  to  make  von  hungry!" 

The  Baron  had  taken  a  private  suite  of  rooms  on  the 
first  floor  of  the  best  hotel  in  St  Egbert's,  and  after  a 
very  substantial  lunch  Mr  Bunker  stretched  himself  on 
the  luxurious  sitting-room  sofa  and  announced  his  inten- 
tion of  having  a  nap. 

"  I  shall  go  out,"  said  the  Baron.    "  You  vill  not  gom  ?  " 

"I  shall  leave  you  to  make  a  single-handed  conquest," 
replied  Mr  Bunker.  "Besides,  I  have  a  little  matter  I 
want  to  look  into." 

So  the  Baron  arranged  his  hat  airily,  at  what  he  had 
perceived  to  be  the  most  fashionable  and  effective  English 
angle,  and  strutted  off  to  the  esplanade. 

It  was  about  two  hours  later  that  he  burst  excitedly 
into  the  room,  crying,  "Aha,  mine  Bonker!  I  haf  dis- 
govered  zomzing!"  and  then  he  stopped  in  some  surprise. 
"  Ello,  vat  make  you,  my  vriend  ?  " 

His  friend,  in  fact,  seemed  to  be  somewhat  singularly 
employed.  Through  a  dense  cloud  of  tobacco-smoke  you 
could  just  pick  him  out  of  the  depths  of  an  armchair, 
his  feet  resting  on  the  mantelpiece,  while  his  lap  and  all 
the  floor  round  about  were  covered  with  immense  books. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  127 

The  Baron's  curiosity  was  still  further  excited  by  observ- 
ing that  they  consisted  principally  of  a  London  and  a 
St  Egbert's  directory,  several  volumes  of  a  Dictionary 
of  National  Biography,  and  one  or  two  peerages  and 
county  family  compilations. 

He  looked  up  with  a  smile.  "You  may  well  wonder, 
my  dear  Baron.  The  fact  is,  I  am  looking  for  a  name." 

"  A  name !  vat  name  ?  " 

"Alas!  if  I  knew  what  it  was  I  should  stop  looking, 
and  I  confess  I'm  rather  sick  of  the  job." 

"  Vich  vay  do  you  look,  zen  ?  " 

"Simply  by  wading  my  way  through  all  the  lists  of 
names  I  could  steal  or  borrow.  It's  devilish  dry  work." 

"Ze  name  of  a  vriend,  is  it?" 

"Yes;  but  I'm  afraid  I  must  wait  till  it  comes.  And 
what  is  this  discovery,  Baron  ?  A  petticoat,  I  presume. 
After  all,  they  are  the  only  things  worth  finding,"  and  he 
shut  the  books  one  after  another. 

"A  petticoat  with  ze  fairest  girl  inside  it!"  exclaimed 
the  Baron,  rapturously. 

"  Your  eyes  seem  to  have  been  singularly  penetrating, 
Baron.  Was  she  dark  or  fair,  tall  or  short,  fat  or  slen- 
der, widow,  wife,  or  maid?  " 

"Fair,  viz  blue  eyes,  short  pairhaps  but  not  too  short, 
slender  as  a — a — drom-stick,  and  I  vould  say  a  maid;  at 
least  I  see  vun  stout  old  lady  mit  her,  mozzer  and  daugh- 
ter I  soppose." 

"And  did  this  piece  of  perfection  seem  to  appreciate 
you?" 

"Vy  should  I  know?    Zey  are  ze  real  ladies  and  pair- 


128  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

tend  not  to  see  me,  hot  I  zink  zey  notice  me  all  ze  same. 
Not  *  lady  vriends,'  Bonker,  ha,  ha,  ha ! " 

Mr  Bunker  laughed  with  reminiscent  amusement, 
and  inquired,  "And  how  did  the  romance  end — in  a  cab, 
Baron?" 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  Baron;  "better  zan  zat, 
Bonker — moch  better!" 

Mr  Bunker  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"  It's  hardly  the  time  of  year  for  a  romance  to  end  in 
a  bathing-machine.  You  followed  the  divinity  to  her 
rented  heaven,  perhaps?" 

The  Baron  bent  forward  and  answered  in  a  stage 
whisper,  "Zey  live  in  zis  hotel,  Bonker!" 

"Then  I  can  only  wish  you  joy,  Baron,  and  if  my 
funds  allow  me,  send  her  a  wedding  present." 

"Ach,  not  quite  so  fast,  my  vriend!  I  am  not  caught 
so  easy." 

"My  dear  fellow,  a  week  at  close  quarters  is  sufficient 
to  net  any  man." 

"  Ven  I  marry,"  replied  the  Baron,  "  moch  most  be  con- 
sidered. A  von  Blitzenberg  does  not  mate  viz  every  vun." 

"A  good  many  families  have  made  the  same  remark, 
but  one  does  not  always  meet  the  fathers-in-law." 

"Ha,  ha!  ve  shall  see.     Bot,  Bonker,  she  is  lofly!" 

The  Baron  awaited  dinner  with  even  more  than  his 
usual  ardour.  He  dressed  with  the  greatest  care,  and 
at  an  absurdly  early  hour  was  already  urging  his  friend 
to  come  down  and  take  their  places.  Indeed  after  a  time 
there  was  no  withholding  him,  and  they  finally  took  their 
seats  in  the  dining-room  before  anybody  else. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT   LARGE  129 

At  what  seemed  to  the  impatient  Baron  unconscionably 
long  intervals  a  few  people  dropped  in  and  began  to 
study  their  menus  and  glance  with  an  air  of  uncom- 
fortable suspicion  at  their  neighbours. 

"  I  vender  vill  she  gom,"  he  said  three  or  four  times  at 
least. 

"Console  yourself,  my  dear  Baron,"  his  friend  would 
reply;  "they  always  come.  That's  seldom  the  difficulty." 

And  the  Baron  would  dally  with  his  victuals  in  the 
most  unwonted  fashion,  and  growl  at  the  rapidity  with 
which  the  courses  followed  one  another. 

"Do  zey  suppose  ve  vish  to  eat  like ?"  he  began, 

and  then  laying  his  hand  on  his  friend's  sleeve,  he  whis- 
pered, "She  goms!" 

Mr  Bunker  turned  his  head  just  in  time  to  see  in  the 
doorway  the  Countess  of  Grillyer  and  the  Lady  Alicia  a 
Fyre. 

"  Is  she  not  fair  ?  "  asked  the  Baron,  excitedly. 

"I  entirely  approve  of  your  taste,  Baron.  I  have  only 
once  seen  any  one  quite  like  her  before." 

With  a  gratified  smile  the  Baron  filled  his  glass,  while 
his  friend  seemed  amused  by  some  humorous  reflection 
of  his  own. 

The  Lady  Alicia  and  her  mother  had  taken  their  seats 
at  a  table  a  little  way  off,  and  at  first  their  eyes  never 
happened  to  turn  in  the  direction  of  the  two  friends. 
But  at  last,  after  looking  at  the  ceiling,  the  carpet,  the 
walls,  the  other  people,  everything  else  in  the  room  it 
seemed,  Lady  Alicia's  glance  fell  for  an  instant  on  the 
Baron.  That  nobleman  looked  as  interesting  as  a 


130  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

mouthful  of  roast  duck  would  permit  him,  but  the  glance 
passed  serenely  on  to  Mr  Bunker.  For  a  moment  it 
remained  serene;  suddenly  it  became  startled  and  puzzled, 
and  at  that  instant  Mr  Bunker  turned  his  own  eyes  full 
upon  her,  smiled  slightly,  and  raised  his  glass  to  his 
lips. 

The  glance  fell,  and  the  Lady  Alicia  blushed  down  to 
the  diamonds  in  her  necklace. 

The  Baron  insisted  on  lingering  over  his  dinner  till 
the  charmer  was  finished,  and  so  by  a  fortuitous  coin- 
cidence they  left  the  room  immediately  behind  the  Coun- 
tess. The  Baron  passed  them  in  the  passage,  and  a  few 
yards  farther  he  looked  round  for  his  friend,  and  the 
Countess  turned  to  look  for  her  daughter. 

They  saw  Lady  Alicia  following  with  an  intensely 
unconscious  expression,  while  Mr  Bunker  was  in  the  act 
of  returning  to  the  dining-room. 

"I  wanted  to  secure  a  table  for  breakfast,"  he  ex- 
plained. 

CHAPTER  H. 

The  Baron  was  in  high  hopes  of  seeing  the  fair  un- 
known at  breakfast,  but  it  seemed  she  must  be  either 
breakfasting  in  her  own  room  or  lying  long  abed. 

"I  think  I  shall  go  out  for  a  little  constitutional,"  said 
Mr  Bunker,  when  he  had  finished.  "  I  suppose  the  hotel 
has  a  stronger  attraction  for  you." 

"Ach,  yes,  I  shall  remain,"  his  friend  replied.  "Pair- 
haps  I  may  see  zem." 


THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  131 

"Take  care  then,  Baron!" 

"I  shall  not  propose  till  you  return,  Bonker!" 

"No,"  said  Mr  Bunker  to  himself,  "I  don't  think 
you  will." 

Just  outside  St  Egbert's  there  is  a  high  breezy  sweep 
of  downs,  falling  suddenly  to  a  chalky  seaward  cliff.  It 
overlooks  the  town  and  the  undulating  inland  country 
and  a  great  spread  of  shining  sea  ;  and  even  without  a 
spy-glass  you  can  see  sail  after  sail  and  smoke-wreath 
after  smoke-wreath  go  by  all  day  long. 

But  Mr  Bunker  had  apparently  walked  there  for  other 
reasons  than  to  see  the  view.  He  did  stop  once  or  twice, 
but  it  was  only  to  scan  the  downs  ahead,  and  at  the  sight 
of  a  fluttering  skirt  he  showed  no  interest  in  anything 
else,  but  made  a  straight  line  for  its  owner.  For  her  part, 
the  lady  seemed  to  await  his  coming.  She  gathered  her 
countenance  into  an  expression  of  as  perfect  unconcern 
as  a  little  heightening  of  her  colour  would  allow  her,  and 
returned  his  salute  with  rather  a  distant  bow.  But  Mr 
Bunker  was  not  to  be  damped  by  this  hint  of  barbed  wire. 
He  held  out  his  hand  and  exclaimed  cordially,  "  My  dear 
Lady  Alicia!  this  is  charming  of  you!" 

"  Of  course  you  understand,  Mr  Beveridge,  it's  only " 

"Perfectly,"  he  interrupted,  gaily;  "I  understand 
everything  I  should  and  nothing  I  shouldn't.  In  fact,  I 
have  altered  little,  except  in  the  trifling  matter  of  a  beard, 
a  moustache  or  two,  and,  by  the  way,  a  name." 

"A  name?" 

"I  am  now  Francis  Bunker,  but  as  much  at  your 
service  as  ever." 


132  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

"But  why — I  mean,  have  you  really  changed  your 
name  ?  " 

"  Circumstances  have  changed  it,  just  as  circumstances 
shaved  me." 

Lady  Alicia  made  a  great  endeavour  to  look  haughty. 
"I  do  not  quite  understand,  Mr " 

"  Bunker — a  temporary  title,  but  suggestive,  and  simple 
for  the  tradesmen." 

"I  do  not  understand  your  conduct.  Why  have  you 
changed  your  name?" 

"Why  not?" 

This  retort  was  so  evidently  unanswerable  that  Lady 
Alicia  changed  her  inquiry. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"Till  yesterday,  in  London." 

"Then  you  didn't  go  to  your  own  parish?"  she  de- 
manded, reproachfully. 

"There  were  difficulties,"  he  replied;  "in  fact,  a  certified 
lunatic  is  not  in  great  demand  as  a  parish  priest.  They 
seem  to  prefer  them  uncertified." 

"But  didn't  you  try?" 

"Hard,  but  it  was  no  use.  The  bishop  was  out  of 
town,  and  I  had  to  wait  till  his  return;  besides,  my  posi- 
tion was  somewhat  insecure.  I  have  had  at  least  two 
remarkable  escapes  since  I  saw  you  last." 

"  Are  you  safe  here  ? "  she  asked,  hurriedly. 

"With  your  consent,  yes." 

She  looked  a  little  troubled.  "I  don't  know  that  I  am 
doing  right,  Mr  Bev — Bunker,  but " 

"  Thank  you,  my  friend,"  he  interrupted,  tenderly. 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  133 

"Don't,"  she  began,  hastily.  "You  mustn't  talk 
like " 

"Francis  Beveridge?"  he  interrupted.  "The  trouble 
is,  this  rascal  Bunker  bears  an  unconscionably  awkward 
resemblance  to  our  old  friend." 

"You  must  see  that  it  is  quite — ridiculous." 

"Absurd,"  he  agreed, — "perfectly  preposterous.  I 
laugh  whenever  I  think  of  it!" 

Poor  Lady  Alicia  felt  like  a  man  at  a  telephone  who 
has  been  connected  with  the  wrong  person.  Again  she 
made  a  desperate  shift  to  fall  back  on  a  becoming  pride. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"If  I  mean  anything  at  all,  which  is  always  rather 
doubtful,"  he  replied,  candidly,  "I  mean  that  Beveridge 
and  his  humbug  were  creatures  of  an  occasion,  just  as 
Bunker  and  his  are  of  another.  The  one  occasion  is 
passed,  and  with  it  the  first  entertaining  gentleman  has 
vanished  into  space.  The  second  gentleman  will  doubt- 
less follow  when  his  time  is  up.  In  fact,  I  may  be  said 
to  be  a  series  of  dissolving  views." 

"Then  isn't  what  you  said  true?" 

"I'm  afraid  you  must  be  more  specific;  you  see  I've 
talked  so  much." 

"What  you  said  about  yourself — and  your  work." 

He  shook  his  head  humorously.  "  I  have  no  means  of 
checking  my  statements." 

She  looked  at  him  in  a  troubled  way,  and  then  her 
eyes  fell. 

"At  least,"  she  said,  "you  won't — you  mustn't  treat 
me  as — as  you  did." 


184  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

"As  Beveridge  did?  Certainly  not;  Bunker  is  the 
soul  of  circumspection.  Besides,  he  doesn't  require  to 
get  out  of  an  asylum." 

"Then  it  was  only  to  get  away?"  she  cried,  turning 
scarlet. 

"  Let  us  call  it  so,"  he  replied,  looking  pensively  out  to 
sea. 

It  seemed  wiser  to  Lady  Alicia  to  change  the  subject. 

"Who  is  the  friend  you  are  staying  with?"  she  asked, 
suddenly. 

"My  old  friend  the  Baron  Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg, 
and  your  own  most  recent  admirer,"  he  replied.  "I  am 
at  present  living  with,  in  fact  I  may  say  upon,  him." 

"Does  he  know?" 

"  If  you  meet  him,  you  had  perhaps  better  not  inquire 
into  my  past  history." 

"I  meant,  does  he  know  about — about  your  knowing 
me?" 

"Bless  them!"  thought  Mr  Bunker;  "one  forgets 
they're  not  always  thinking  about  us!" 

"My  noble  friend  has  no  idea  that  I  have  been  so 
fortunate,"  he  replied. 

Lady  Alicia  looked  relieved.  "Who  is  he?"  she 
asked. 

"A  German  nobleman  of  great  wealth,  long  descent, 
and  the  most  accommodating  disposition.  He  is  at 
present  exploring  England  under  my  guidance,  and  I 
flatter  myself  that  he  has  already  seen  and  done  a  number 
of  things  that  are  not  on  most  programmes." 

Lady  Alicia  was  silent  for  a  minute.     Then  she  said 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  135 

with  a  little  hesitation,  "Didn't  you  get  a  letter  from 
me?" 

"  A  letter  ?    No,"  he  replied,  in  some  surprise. 

"I  wrote  twice — because  you  asked  me  to,  and  I 
thought — I  wondered  if  you  were  safe." 

"To  what  address  did  you  write?" 

"The  address  you  gave  me." 

"  And  what  was  that  ?  "  he  asked,  still  evidently  puzzled. 

"  You  said  care  of  the  Archbishop  of  York  would  find 
you." 

Mr  Bunker  abruptly  looked  the  other  way. 

"By  Jove!"  he  said,  as  if  lost  in  speculation,  "I  must 
find  out  what  the  matter  was.  I  can't  imagine  why  they 
haven't  been  forwarded." 

Lady  Alicia  appeared  a  little  dissatisfied. 

"  Was  that  a  real  address  ?  "  she  asked,  suddenly. 

"Perfectly,"  he  replied;  "as  real  as  Pentonville  Jail  or 
the  House  of  Commons."  ("And  as  likely  to  find  me," 
he  added  to  himself.) 

Lady  Alicia  seemed  to  hesitate  whether  to  pursue  the 
subject  further,  but  in  the  middle  of  her  debate  Mr  Bunker 
asked,  "By  the  way,  has  Lady  Grillyer  any  recollection 
of  having  seen  me  before  ?  " 

"No,  she  doesn't  remember  you  at  all." 

"  Then  we  shall  meet  as  strangers  ? " 

"Yes,  I  think  it  would  be  better;  don't  you?** 

"It  will  save  our  imaginations  certainly." 

Lady  Alicia  looked  at  him  as  though  she  expected 
something  more;  but  as  nothing  came,  she  said,  "I  think 
it's  time  I  went  back." 


136  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

"For  the  present  then  au  revoir,  my  dear  Alicia.  I 
beg  your  pardon,  Lady  Alicia;  it  was  that  rascal  Bev- 
eridge  who  made  the  slip.  It  now  remains  to  make  your 
formal  acquaintance." 

"You— you  mustn't  try!" 

"The  deuce  is  in  these  people  beginning  with  B!" 
he  laughed.  "They  seem  to  do  things  without  trying." 

He  pressed  her  hand,  raised  his  hat,  and  started  back 
to  the  town.  She,  on  her  part,  lingered  to  let  him  get  a 
clear  start  of  her,  and  her  blue  eyes  looked  as  though  a 
breeze  had  blown  across  and  ruffled  them. 

Mr  Bunker  had  reached  the  esplanade,  and  was 
sauntering  easily  back  towards  the  hotel,  looking  at  the 
people  and  smiling  now  and  then  to  himself,  when  he 
observed  with  considerable  astonishment  two  familiar  fig- 
ures strolling  towards  him.  They  were  none  other  than 
the  Baron  and  the  Countess,  engaged  in  animated  conver- 
sation, and  apparently  on  the  very  best  terms  with  each 
other.  At  the  sight  of  him  the  Baron  beamed  joyfully. 

"Aha,  Bonker,  so  you  haf  returned!"  he  cried.  "In 
ze  meanvile  I  haf  had  vun  great  good  fortune.  Let  me 
present  my  friend  Mr  Bonker,  ze  Lady  Grillyer." 

The  Countess  bowed  most  graciously,  and  raising  a 
pair  of  tortoise-shell-rimmed  eye-glasses  mounted  on  a 
stem  of  the  same  material,  looked  at  Mr  Bunker  through 
these  with  a  by  no  means  disapproving  glance. 

At  first  sight  it  was  evident  that  Lady  Alicia  must 
"take  after"  her  noble  father.  The  Countess  was 
aquiline  of  nose,  large  of  person,  and  emphatic  in  her 
voice  and  manner. 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  137 

"You  are  the  'showman,'  Mr  Bunker,  are  you  not?" 
she  said,  with  a  smile  for  which  many  of  her  acquaint- 
ances would  have  given  a  tolerable  percentage  of  their 
incomes. 

"It  seems,"  replied  Mr  Bunker,  smiling  back  agree- 
ably, "that  the  Baron  is  now  the  showman,  and  I  must 
congratulate  him  on  his  first  venture." 

For  an  instant  the  Countess  seemed  a  trifle  taken  aback. 
It  was  a  considerable  number  of  years  since  she  had 
been  addressed  in  precisely  this  strain,  and  in  fact  at 
no  time  had  her  admirers  ventured  quite  so  dashingly  to 
the  attack.  But  there  was  something  entirely  irresistible 
in  Mr  Bunker's  manner,  partly  perhaps  because  he  never 
made  the  mistake  of  heeding  a  first  rebuff.  The  Countess 
coughed,  then  smiled  a  little  again,  and  said  to  the  Baron, 
"You  didn't  tell  me  that  your  showman  supplied  the 
little  speeches  as  well." 

"  I  could  not  know  it;  zere  has  not  before  been  ze  reason 
for  a  pretty  speech,"  responded  the  Baron,  gallantly. 

If  Lady  Grillyer  had  been  anybody  else,  one  would 
have  said  that  she  actually  giggled.  Certainly  a  little 
wave  of  scandalised  satisfaction  rippled  all  over  her. 

"Oh,  really!"  she  cried,  "I  don't  know  which  of  you 
is  the  worst  offender." 

All  this  time,  as  may  be  imagined,  Mr  Bunker  had 
been  in  a  state  of  high  mystification  at  his  friend's  unusual 
adroitness. 

"How  the  deuce  did  he  get  hold  of  her?"  he  said  to 
himself. 

In  the  next  pause  the  Baron  solved  the  riddle. 


138  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

"  You  vil  vunder,  Bonker,"  he  said,  "  how  I  did  gom  to 
know  ze  Lady  Grillyer." 

"I  envied,  certainly,"  replied  his  friend,  with  a  side 
glance  at  the  now  purring  Countess. 

"She  vas  of  my  introdogtions,  hot  till  after  you  vent 
out  zis  morning  I  did  not  lairn  her  name.  Zen  I  said  to 
myself,  'Ze  sun  shines,  Himmel  is  kind!  Here  now  is  ze 
fair  Lady  Grillyer — my  introdogtion!'  and  zo  zat  is  how, 
you  see." 

"  To  think  of  the  Baron  being  here  and  our  only  finding 
each  other  out  by  chance ! "  said  the  Countess. 

"By  a  fortunate  providence  for  me!"  exclaimed  the 
Baron,  fervently. 

"Baron,"  said  the  Countess,  trying  hard  to  look  severe, 
"you  must  really  keep  some  of  these  nice  speeches  for 
my  daughter.  Which  reminds  me,  I  wonder  where  she 
can  be?" 

"Ach,  here  she  goms!"  cried  the  Baron. 

"  Why,  how  did  you  know  her  ?  "  asked  the  Countess. 

"I — I  did  see  her  last  night  at  dinnair,"  explained  the 
Baron,  turning  red. 

"Ah,  of  course,  I  remember,"  replied  the  Countess, 
in  a  matter-of-fact  tone;  but  her  motherly  eye  was  sharp, 
and  already  it  began  to  look  on  the  highly  eligible  Rudolph 
with  more  approval  than  ever. 

"  My  daughter  Alicia,  the  Baron  Rudolph  von  Blitzen- 
berg,  Mr  Bunker,"  she  said  the  next  moment. 

The  Baron  went  nearly  double  as  he  bowed,  and  the 
flourish  of  his  hat  stirred  the  dust  on  the  esplanade.  Mr 
Bunker's  salutation  was  less  profound,  but  his  face  ex- 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  139 

pressed  an  almost  equal  degree  of  interested  respect. 
Her  mother  thought  that  when  one  of  the  gentlemen  was 
a  nobleman  with  an  indefinite  number  of  thousands 
a-year  and  the  other  a  person  of  so  much  discrimination, 
Lady  Alicia's  own  bow  might  have  been  a  trifle  less 
reserved.  But  then  even  the  most  astute  mother  cannot 
know  the  reasons  for  everything. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

"Alicia,"  said  the  Countess,  "it  was  really  a  most 
fortunate  coincidence  our  meeting  the  Baron  at  St  Eg- 
bert's." 

She  paused  for  a  reply  and  looked  expectantly  at  her 
daughter.  It  was  not  the  first  time  in  the  course  of  the 
morning  that  Lady  Alicia  had  listened  to  similar  observa- 
tions, and  perhaps  that  was  why  she  answered  somewhat 
listlessly,  "  Yes,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

The  Countess  frowned,  and  continued  with  emphasis, 
"I  consider  him  one  of  the  most  agreeable  and  best 
informed  young  men  I  have  ever  met." 

"  Is  he  ?  "  said  Lady  Alicia,  absently. 

"I  wonder,  Alicia,  you  hadn't  noticed  it,"  her  mother 
observed,  severely;  "you  talked  with  him  most  of  the 
afternoon.  I  should  have  thought  that  no  observant, 
well-bred  girl  would  have  failed  to  have  been  struck  with 
his  air  and  conversation." 

"  I — I  thought  him  very  pleasant,  mamma." 


140  THE    LUNATIC    AT   LARGE 

"I  am  glad  you  had  so  much  sense.  He  is  extremely 
pleasant." 

As  Lady  Alicia  made  no  reply,  the  Countess  felt  obliged 
to  continue  his  list  of  virtues  herself. 

"He  is  of  most  excellent  family,  Alicia,  one  of  the 
oldest  in  Bavaria.  I  don't  remember  what  I  heard  his 
income  was  in  pfennigs,  or  whatever  they  measure  money 
by  in  Germany,  but  I  know  that  it  is  more  than  £20,000 
a-year  in  English  money.  A  very  large  sum  nowadays," 
she  added,  as  if  £20,000  had  grown  since  she  was  a 
girl. 

"Yes,  mamma." 

"He  is  considered,  besides,  an  unusually  promising 
and  intelligent  young  nobleman,  and  in  Germany,  where 
noblemen  are  still  constantly  used,  that  says  a  great  deal 
for  him." 

"Does  it,  mamma?" 

"Certainly  it  does.  Education  there  is  so  severe  that 
young  Englishmen  are  beginning  to  know  less  than  they 
ever  did,  and  in  most  cases  that  isn't  saying  much.  Com- 
pare the  Baron  with  the  young  men  you  meet  here ! " 

She  looked  at  her  daughter  triumphantly,  and  Alicia 
could  only  reply,  "  Yes,  mamma  ?  " 

"Compare  them  and  see  the  difference.  Look  at  the 
Baron's  friend,  Mr  Bunker,  who  is  a  very  agreeable  and 
amusing  man,  I  admit,  but  look  at  the  difference ! " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  Alicia  could  not  help  asking. 

"What  is  it,  Alicia!  It  is — ah — it's — er — it  is,  in 
short,  the  effect  of  a  carefully  cultivated  mind  and  good 
blood." 


THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  141 

"  But  don't  you  think  Mr  Bunker  cultivated,  mamma — 
and — and — well-bred  ?  " 

"He  has  an  amusing  way  of  saying  things, — but  then 
you  must  remember  that  the  Baron  is  doubtless  equally 
entertaining  in  his  native  language, — and  possibly  a 
superficial  knowledge  of  a  few  of  the  leading  questions 
of  the  day;  but  the  Baron  talked  to  me  for  hah*  an  hour 
on  the  relations  of  something  or  other  in  Germany  to — 
er — something  else — a  very  important  point,  I  assure 
you." 

"I  always  thought  him  very  clever,"  said  Lady  Alicia 
with  a  touch  of  warmth,  and  then  instantly  changed 
colour  at  the  horrible  slip. 

"You  always,"  said  the  Countess  in  alarmed  astonish- 
ment; "you  hardly  spoke  to  him  yesterday,  and — had 
you  met  him  before  ?  " 

"I — I  meant  the  Baron,  mamma." 

"But  I  have  just  been  saying  that  he  was  unusually 
clever." 

"But  I  thought,  I  mean  it  seemed  as  though  you  con- 
sidered him  only  well  informed." 

Lady  Alicia's  blushes  and  confusion  deepened.  Her 
mother  looked  at  her  with  a  softening  eye.  Suddenly 
she  rose,  kissed  her  affectionately,  and  said  with  the 
tenderness  of  triumph,  "My  dear  girl!  Of  course  he  is; 
clever,  well  informed,  and  a  most  desirable  young  man. 
My  Alicia  could  not  do " 

She  stopped,  as  if  she  thought  this  was  perhaps  a  little 
premature  (though  the  Countess's  methods  inclined  to 
the  summary  and  decisive),  and  again  kissing  her  daughter 


142  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

affectionately,  remarked  gaily,  "Let  me  see,  why,  it's 
almost  time  we  went  for  our  little  walk!  We  mustn't 
really  disappoint  those  young  men.  I  am  in  the  middle 
of  such  an  amusing  discussion  with  Mr  Bunker,  who  is 
really  a  very  sensible  man  and  quite  worthy  of  the  Baron's 
judgment." 

Poor  Lady  Alicia  hardly  knew  whether  to  feel  more 
relieved  at  her  escape  or  dismayed  at  the  construction  put 
upon  her  explanation.  She  went  out  to  meet  the  Baron, 
determined  to  give  no  further  colour  to  her  mother's 
unlucky  misconception.  The  Countess  was  far  too  ex- 
perienced and  determined  a  general  to  leave  it  at  all 
doubtful  who  should  walk  by  whose  side,  and  who  should 
have  the  opportunity  of  appreciating  whose  merits,  but 
Lady  Alicia  was  quite  resolved  that  the  Baron's  blandish- 
ments should  fall  on  stony  ground. 

But  a  soft  heart  and  an  undecided  mouth  are  treacher- 
ous companions.  The  Baron  was  so  amiable  and  so 
gallant,  that  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  she  was  obliged 
to  abate  the  strictness  of  her  resolution.  She  should 
treat  him  with  the  friendliness  of  a  brother.  She  learned 
that  he  had  no  sisters:  her  decision  was  confirmed. 

The  enamoured  and  delighted  Baron  was  in  the  seventh 
heaven  of  happy  loquacity.  He  poured  out  particulars 
of  his  travels,  his  more  recordable  adventures,  his  opinions 
on  various  social  and  political  matters,  and  at  last  even 
of  the  family  ghost,  the  hereditary  carpet-beatership, 
and  the  glories  of  Bavaria.  And  Lady  Alicia  listened 
with  what  he  could  not  doubt  was  an  interest  touched 
with  tenderness. 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  143 

"I  wonder,"  she  said,  artlessly,  "that  you  find  any- 
thing to  admire  in  England — compared  with  Bavaria, 
I  mean." 

"Two  zings  I  haf  not  zere,"  replied  the  Baron,  waving 
his  hand  round  towards  the  horizon.  "Vun  is  ze  vet 
sheet  of  flowing  sea — says  not  your  poet  so  ?  Ze  ozzer " 
(laying  his  hand  on  his  heart)  "is  ze  Lady  Alicia  a  Fyre." 

There  are  some  people  who  catch  sentiment  whenever 
it  happens  to  be  in  the  air,  just  as  others  almost  equally 
unfortunate  regularly  take  hay-fever. 

Lady  Alicia's  reply  was  much  softer  than  she  intended, 
especially  as  she  could  have  told  anybody  that  the  Baron's 
compliment  was  the  merest  figure  of  speech. 

"You  needn't  have  included  me:  I'm  sure  I'm  not  a 
great  attraction." 

"  Ze  sea  is  less,  so  zat  leaves  none,"  the  Baron  smiled. 

"  Didn't  you  see  anybody — I  mean,  anything  in  London 
that  attracted  you — that  you  liked  ? " 

"Zat  I  liked,  yes,  zat  pairhaps  for  the  moment  at- 
tracted me;  but  not  zat  shall  still  attract  me  ven  I  am 
gone  avay." 

The  Baron  sighed  this  time,  and  she  felt  impelled  to 
reply,  with  the  most  sisterly  kindness,  "I — we  should, 
of  course,  like  to  think  that  you  didn't  forget  us  alto- 
gether" 

"You  need  not  fear." 

Then  Lady  Alicia  began  to  realise  that  this  was  more 
like  a  second  cousin  than  a  brother,  and  with  sudden 
sprightliness  she  cried,  "I  wonder  where  that  steamer's 
going!" 


144  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

The  Baron  turned  his  eyes  towards  his  first-named 
attraction,  but  for  a  professed  lover  of  the  ocean  his 
interest  appeared  slight.  He  only  replied  absently, 
"Ach,  zo?" 

A  little  way  behind  them  walked  Mr  Bunker  and  the 
Countess.  The  attention  of  Lady  Grillyer  was  divided 
between  the  agreeable  conversation  of  her  companion 
and  the  pleasant  spectacle  of  a  fabulous  number  of 
pfennigs  a-year  bending  its  titled  head  over  her  daughter. 
In  the  middle  of  one  of  Mr  Bunker's  most  amusing 
stories  she  could  not  forbear  interrupting  with  a  com- 
placent "they  do  make  a  very  handsome  couple!" 

Mr  Bunker  politely  stopped  his  narrative,  and  looked 
critically  from  his  friend's  gaily  checked  back  to  Lady 
Alicia's  trim  figure. 

"Pray  go  on  with  your  story,  Mr  Bunker,"  said  the 
Countess,  hastily,  realising  that  she  had  thought  a  little 
too  loudly. 

"They  are  like,"  responded  Mr  Bunker,  replying  to 
her  first  remark — "they  are  like  a  pair  of  gloves." 

The  Countess  raised  her  brows  and  looked  at  him 
sharply. 

"I  mean,  of  course,  the  best  quality." 

"I  think,"  said  the  Countess,  suspiciously,  "that  you 
spoke  a  little  carelessly." 

"My  simile  was  a  little  premature?" 

"I  think  so,"  said  the  Countess,  decisively. 

"  Let  us  call  them  then  an  odd  pair,"  smiled  Mr  Bunker, 
unruffled;  "and  only  hope  that  they'll  turn  out  to  be  the 
same  size  and  different  hands." 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  145 

The  Countess  actually  condescended  to  smile  back. 

"She  is  a  dear  child,"  she  murmured. 

"  His  income,  I  think,  is  sufficient,"  he  answered. 

Humour  was  not  conspicuous  in  the  Grillyer  family. 
The  Countess  replied  seriously,  "I  am  one  of  those  out- 
of-date  people,  Mr  Bunker,  who  consider  some  things 
come  before  money,  but  the  Baron's  birth  and  position 
are  fortunately  unimpeachable." 

"While  his  mental  qualities,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  "are, 
in  my  experience,  almost  unique." 

The  Countess  was  confirmed  in  her  opinion  of  Mr 
Bunker's  discrimination. 

Late  that  night,  after  they  had  parted  with  their  friends, 
the  Baron  smoked  in  the  most  unwonted  silence  while 
Mr  Bunker  dozed  on  the  sofa.  Several  times  Rudolph 
threw  restive  glances  at  his  friend,  as  if  he  had  something 
on  his  mind  that  he  needed  a  helping  hand  to  unburden 
himself  of.  At  last  the  silence  grew  so  intolerable  that 
he  screwed  up  his  courage  and  with  desperate  resolution 
exclaimed,  "Bonker!" 

Mr  Bunker  opened  his  eyes  and  sat  up. 

"Bonker,  I  am  in  loff!" 

Mr  Bunker  smiled  and  stretched  himself  out  again. 

"  I  have  also  been  in  love,"  he  replied. 

"  You  are  not  now  ?  " 

"Alas!  no." 

"Vy  alas?" 

"  Because  follies  without  illusions  get  so  infernally  dull, 
Baron." 

The  Baron  smiled  a  little  foolishly. 


146  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"I  haf  ze  illusions,  I  fear."  Then  he  broke  out 
enthusiastically,  "Ach,  hot  is  she  not  lofly,  Bonker? 
If  she  will  bot  lof  me  back  I  shall  be  ze  happiest  man 
out  of  heaven!" 

"You  have  wasted  no  time,  Baron." 

The  Baron  shook  his  head  in  melancholy  pleasure. 

"You  are  quite  sure  it  is  really  love  this  time?"  his 
friend  pursued. 

"  Qvite ! "  said  the  Baron,  with  the  firmness  of  a  martyr. 

"There  are  so  many  imitations." 

"Not  so  close  zat  zey  can  deceive!" 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  Mr  Bunker.  "These  first 
symptoms  are  common  to  them  all,  and  yet  the  varieties 
of  the  disease  are  almost  beyond  counting.  I  myself 
have  suffered  from  it  in  eight  different  forms.  There 
was  the  virulent,  spotted-all-over  variety,  known  as 
calf-love;  there  was  the  kind  that  accompanied  itself  by 
a  course  of  the  Restoration  dramatists;  another  form  I 
may  call  the  strayed-Platonic,  and  that  may  be  sub- 
divided into  at  least  two;  then  there  was " 

"Schtop!  schtop!"  cried  the  Baron.  "Ha,  ha,  ha! 
Zat  will  do!  Teufel!  I  most  examine  my  heart  strictly. 
And  yet,  Bonker,  I  zink  my  loff  is  anozzer  kind — ze  real!  " 

"They  are  all  that,  Baron;  but  have  it  your  own  way. 
Anything  I  can  do  to  make  you  worse  shall  be  done." 

"  Zanks,  my  best  of  friends,"  said  the  Baron,  warmly, 
seizing  his  hand;  "I  knew  you  would  stand  by  me!" 

Mr  Bunker  gave  a  little  laugh,  and  returning  the  pres- 
sure, replied,  "  My  dear  fellow,  I'd  do  anything  to  oblige 
a  friend  hi  such  an  interesting  condition." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE     147 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Baron  was  a  few  minutes  late  in  joining  the  party 
at  lunch,  and  when  he  appeared  he  held  an  open  letter 
in  his  hand.  It  was  only  the  middle  of  the  next  day, 
and  yet  he  could  have  sworn  that  last  night  he  was  com- 
paratively whole-hearted,  he  felt  so  very  much  more  in 
love  already. 

"Yet  anozzer  introdogtion  has  found  me  out,"  he  said 
as  he  took  his  seat.  "I  have  here  a  letter  of  invitation 
vich  I  do  not  zink  I  shall  accept." 

He  threw  an  amorous  glance  at  Lady  Alicia,  which 
her  watchful  mother  rightly  interpreted  as  indicating 
the  cause  of  his  intended  refusal. 

"  Who  is  it  this  time  ?  "  asked  Mr  Bunker. 

"Sir  Richard  Brierley  of  Brierley  Park,  Dampshire. 
Is  zat  how  you  pronounce  it  ? " 

"Sir  Richard  Brierley!"  exclaimed  the  Countess; 
"why,  Alicia  and  I  are  going  to  visit  some  relatives  of 
ours  who  live  only  six  miles  from  Brierley  Park!  When 
has  he  asked  you,  Baron?" 

"Ze  end  of  next  week." 

"How  odd!  We  are  going  down  to  Dampshire  at  the 
end  of  next  week  too.  You  must  accept,  Baron!" 

"I  shall!"  exclaimed  the  overjoyed  Baron.  "Shall 
ve  go,  Bonker?" 

"I'm  not  asked,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Ach,  hot  zat  is  nozzing.     I  shall  tell  him." 


148  THE    LUNATIC    AT   LARGE 

"As  you  please,  Baron,"  replied  Mr  Bunker,  with  a 
half  glance  at  Lady  Alicia. 

The  infatuated  Baron  had  already  begun  to  dread  the 
inevitable  hour  of  separation,  and  this  piece  of  good 
fortune  put  him  into  the  highest  spirits.  He  felt  so  ami- 
able towards  the  whole  world  that  when  the  four  went  out 
for  a  stroll  in  the  afternoon  he  lingered  for  a  minute  by 
Lady  Grillyer's  side,  and  in  that  minute  Mr  Bunker  and 
Lady  Alicia  were  out  of  hail  ahead.  The  Baron's  face 
fell. 

"  Shall  I  come  down  to  this  place  ?  "  said  Mr  Bunker. 

"Would  you  like  to?" 

"I  should  be  sorry,"  he  replied,  "to  part  with — the 
Baron." 

Lady  Alicia  had  expected  a  slightly  different  ending 
to  this  sentence,  and  so,  to  tell  the  truth,  Mr  Bunker  had 
intended. 

"Oh,  if  you  can't  stay  away  from  the  Baron,  you  had 
better  go." 

"  It  is  certainly  very  hard  to  tear  myself  away  from  so 
charming  a  person  as  the  Baron;  perhaps  you  can  feel 
forme?" 

"I  think  he  is  very — nice." 

"He  thinks  you  very  nice." 

"Does  he?"  said  Lady  Alicia,  with  great  indifference, 
and  a  moment  later  changed  the  subject. 

Meanwhile  the  Baron  was  growing  very  uneasy.  Of 
course  it  was  quite  natural  that  Mr  Bunker  should  find 
it  pleasant  to  walk  for  a  few  minutes  by  the  side  of  the 
fairest  creature  on  earth,  and  very  possibly  he  was  artfully 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  149 

pleading  his  friend's  cause.  Yet  the  Baron  felt  uneasy. 
He  remembered  Mr  Bunker's  invariable  success  with 
the  gentler  sex,  his  wit,  his  happy  smile,  and  his  good 
looks;  and  he  began  to  wish  most  sincerely  that  these 
fascinations  were  being  exercised  on  the  now  somewhat 
breathless  Countess,  for  his  efforts  to  overtake  the  pair 
in  front  had  both  annoyed  and  exhausted  Lady  Grillyer. 

"Need  we  walk  quite  so  fast,  Baron?"  she  suggested; 
and  Lady  Grillyer's  suggestions  were  of  the  kind  that  are 
evidently  meant  to  be  acted  upon. 

"Ach,  I  did  forged,"  said  the  Baron,  absently,  and 
without  further  remark  he  slackened  his  pace  for  a  few 
yards  and  then  was  off  again. 

"You  were  telling  me,"  gasped  the  Countess,  "of  some- 
thing you  thought  of — doing  when — you  went — home." 

"Zo?     Oh  yes,  it  vas — Teufel!    I  do  not  remember." 

"Really,  Baron,"  said  the  Countess,  decidedly,  "I 
cannot  go  any  farther  at  this  rate.  Let  us  turn.  The 
others  will  be  turning  too,  in  a  minute." 

In  fact  the  unlucky  Baron  had  clean  run  Lady  Grill- 
yer's maternal  instincts  off  their  feet,  and  he  suffered 
for  it  by  seeing  nothing  of  either  his  friend  or  his  charmer 
for  an  hour  and  a  half. 

That  night  he  accepted  Sir  Richard's  invitation,  but 
said  nothing  whatever  about  bringing  a  friend. 

For  the  next  week  Rudolph  was  in  as  many  states  of 
mind  as  there  were  hours  in  each  day.  He  walked  and 
rode  and  drove  with  Lady  Alicia  through  the  most  ro- 
mantic spots  he  could  find.  He  purchased  a  large  assort- 
ment of  golf -clubs,  and  under  her  tuition  essayed  to  play 


150  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

that  most  dangerous  of  games  for  mixed  couples.  In 
turn  he  broke  every  club  in  his  set;  the  cavities  he  hewed 
in  the  links  are  still  pointed  out  to  the  curious;  but  the 
heart  of  the  Lady  Alicia  alone  he  seemed  unable  to 
damage.  There  was  always  a  moment  at  which  his 
courage  failed  him,  and  in  that  fatal  pause  she  invariably 
changed  the  subject  with  the  most  innocent  air  in  the 
world. 

Every  now  and  then  the  greenest  spasms  of  jealousy 
would  seize  him.  Why  did  she  elect  to  disappear  with 
Mr  Bunker  on  the  very  morning  that  he  had  resolved 
should  settle  his  fate?  It  is  true  he  had  made  the  same 
resolution  every  morning,  but  on  this  particular  one 
he  had  no  doubt  he  would  have  put  his  fate  to  the  touch. 
And  why  on  a  certain  moonlight  evening  was  he  left  to 
the  unsentimental  company  of  the  Countess  ? 

He  made  no  further  reference  to  the  visit  to  Brierley 
Park;  in  fact  he  shunned  discussion  of  any  kind  with 
his  quondam  bosom  friend. 

The  time  slipped  past,  till  the  visit  to  St  Egbert's  was 
almost  at  an  end.  On  the  day  after  to-morrow  all  four 
were  going  to  leave  (where  Mr  Bunker  was  going,  his 
friend  never  troubled  to  inquire). 

They  sat  together  latish  in  the  evening  in  the  Baron's 
room.  That  very  afternoon  Lady  Alicia  had  spent  more 
time  in  Mr  Bunker's  society  than  in  his,  and  the  Baron 
felt  that  the  hour  had  come  for  an  explanation. 

"Bonker,  I  haf  a  suspection!"  he  exclaimed,  suddenly. 
"It  is  not  I,  bot  you,  who  are  ze  friend  to  ze  beautiful 
Lady  Alicia.  You  are  not  doing  me  fair!" 


THE    LUNATIC    AT   LARGE  151 

"My  dear  Baron!" 

"It  is  so:  you  are  not  doing  me  fair,"  the  Baron  reiter- 
ated. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  replied  Mr  Bunker,  "it  is  you  are 
so  much  in  love  that  you  have  lost  your  wonted  courage. 
You  don't  use  your  chances." 

"  I  do  not  get  zem." 

"Nonsense,  Baron!  I  haven't  spent  one  hour  in  Lady 
Alicia's  company  to  your  twenty-four,  and  yet  if  I'd 
been  matrimonially  inclined  I  could  have  proposed  twice 
over.  You've  had  the  chance  of  being  accepted  fifty 
times." 

"I  haf  not  been  accepted  vunce,"  said  the  Baron, 
moodily. 

"Have  you  put  the  question?" 

"I  haf  not  dared." 

"Well,  my  dear  Baron,  whose  fault  is  that?" 

The  Baron  was  silent. 

"Ask  her  to-morrow." 

"No,  Bonker,"  said  the  Baron,  sadly;  "she  treats  me 
not  like  a  lover.  She  talks  of  friendship.  I  do  not  vish 
a  frient!" 

Mr  Bunker  looked  thoughtfully  up  at  the  ceiling. 
"You  don't  think  you  have  touched  her  heart?"  he 
asked  at  length. 

"I  fear  not." 

"You  must  try  an  infallible  recipe  for  winning  a 
woman's  heart.  You  must  be  in  trouble." 

"In  trouble!" 

"  I  have  tried  it  once  myself,  with  great  success." 


152  THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

"Bothow?" 

"You  must  fall  ill." 

"Bot  I  cannot;  I  am  too  healthful,  alas! " 

Mr  Bunker  smiled  artfully.  "  They  come  to  tea  in 
our  rooms  to-morrow,  you  know.  By  then,  Baron,  you 
must  be  laid  up,  ill  or  not,  just  as  you  please.  A  grain 
of  Lady  Alicia's  sympathy  is  worth  more  than  a  ton  of 
even  your  wit." 

The  standard  chosen  for  the  measurement  of  his  wit 
escaped  the  Baron,  the  scheme  delighted  him. 

"Ha,  Bonker!  schon!  I  tvig!  Goot!"  he  cried.  "How 
shall  ve  do?" 

"Leave  it  to  me." 

The  Baron  reflected,  and  his  smile  died  away. 

"Sopposing,"  he  said,  slowly,  "zey  find  out?  Is  it 
vise  ?  Is  it  straight  ?  " 

"They  can't  find  out.  They  go  the  next  morning, 
and  what's  to  prevent  your  making  a  quick  recovery  and 
pluckily  going  down  to  Brierley  Park  as  the  interesting 
convalescent  ?  She  will  know  that  you've  made  a  danger- 
ous journey  on  her  account." 

The  Baron's  face  cleared  again. 

"  Let  us  try ! "  he  said; "  anyzing  is  better  zan  my  present 
state.  Bot,  be  careful,  Bonker!" 

"I  shall  take  the  most  minute  precautions,"  replied 
Mr  Bunker. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT   LARGE  153 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  next  morning  the  two  conspirators  breakfasted 
early.  The  Baron  seemed  a  little  nervous  now  that  it 
came  so  near  the  venture,  but  his  friend  was  as  cheerful 
as  a  schoolboy,  and  his  confident  air  soon  put  fresh  courage 
into  Rudolph. 

Mr  Bunker's  bedroom  opened  out  of  their  common 
sitting-room,  and  so  he  declared  that  in  the  afternoon 
the  Baron  must  be  laid  up  there. 

"Keep  your  room  all  morning,"  he  said,  "and  look  as 
pale  as  you  can.  I  shall  make  my  room  ready  for  you." 

When  the  Baron  had  retired,  he  threw  himself  into  a 
chair  and  gazed  for  a  few  minutes  round  his  bedroom. 
Then  he  rang  his  bell,  ordered  the  servant  to  make  the 
bed  immediately,  and  presently  went  out  to  do  some 
shopping.  On  the  way  he  sent  word  to  the  Countess, 
telling  her  only  that  the  Baron  was  indisposed,  but  that 
in  spite  of  this  misfortune  he  hoped  he  should  have  the 
pleasure  of  their  company  at  tea.  The  rest  of  the  morn- 
ing he  spent  in  his  bedroom,  prudently  keeping  out  of 
the  ladies'  way. 

When,  after  a  substantial  lunch  which  he  insisted 
upon  getting  up  to  eat,  the  Baron  was  allowed  to  enter 
the  sick-room,  he  uttered  an  exclamation  of  astonish- 
ment,— and  indeed  his  surprise  was  natural.  The  room 
was  as  full  of  flowers  as  a  conservatory;  chairs,  wardrobe, 


154  THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

and  fireplace  were  most  artistically  draped  with  art 
hangings ;  a  plate  filled  with  grapes,  a  large  bottle  labelled 
"Two  table-spoonfuls  every  half  hour,"  and  a  medicine- 
glass  were  placed  conspicuously  on  a  small  table;  and, 
most  remarkable  feature  of  all,  Mr  Bunker's  bath  filled 
with  water  and  alive  with  goldfish  stood  by  the  side  of 
the  bed.  A  couple  of  canaries  sang  in  a  cage  by  the 
window,  the  half-drawn  curtains  only  permitted  the  most 
delicate  light  to  steal  into  the  room,  and  in  short  the 
whole  arrangement  reflected  the  utmost  credit  on  his 
ingenious  friend. 

The  Baron  was  delighted,  but  a  little  puzzled. 

"  Vat  for  are  zese  fishes  and  ze  canaries  ?  "  he  asked. 

"To  show  your  love  of  nature." 

"Vy  so?" 

"There  is  nothing  that  pleases  a  woman  more." 

"My  friend,  you  zink  of  everyzing!"  exclaimed  the 
Baron,  admiringly. 

When  four  o'clock  approached  he  drew  a  night-shirt 
over  his  other  garments  and  got  into  bed.  Mr  Bunker 
at  first  was  in  favour  of  a  complete  change  of  attire,  but 
on  his  friend's  expostulating  against  such  a  thorough 
precaution,  he  admitted  that  it  would  be  perhaps  rather 
like  the  historic  blacking  of  Othello. 

"Leave  it  all  to  me,  my  dear  Baron,"  he  said,  reas- 
suringly, as  he  tucked  him  in;  and  with  that  he  went  into 
the  other  room  and  awaited  the  arrival  of  their  guests. 

They  came  punctually.  The  Countess  was  full  of 
concern  for  the  "dear  Baron,"  while  Lady  Alicia,  he 
could  not  help  thinking,  appeared  unusually  reserved. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  155 

In  fact,  his  quick  eye  soon  divined  that  something  was 
the  matter. 

"  She  has  either  been  getting  a  lecture  from  the  dowager 
or  has  found  something  out."  he  said  to  himself. 

However,  it  seemed  that  if  she  had  found  anything 
out  it  could  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  Baron's  indis- 
position, for  she  displayed  the  most  ingenuous  sympathy, 
and,  he  thought,  she  even  appeared  to  aim  it  pointedly  at 
himself. 

"So  sudden!"  exclaimed  the  Countess. 

"It  is  rather  sudden,  but  we'll  hope  it  may  pass  as 
quickly  as  it  came,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  conveying  a  skilful 
impression  of  deep  concern  veiled  by  a  cheerful  manner. 

"Tell  me  honestly,  Mr  Bunker,  is  it  dangerous?" 
demanded  the  countess. 

Mr  Bunker  hesitated,  gave  a  half-hearted  laugh,  and 
replied,  "  Oh,  dear,  no !  that  is — at  present,  Lady  Grillyer, 
we  have  really  no  reason  to  be  alarmed." 

"I  am  so  sorry,"  murmured  Lady  Alicia. 

Her  mother  looked  at  her  approvingly. 

"  Poor  Baron ! "  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  the  greatest  com- 
miseration. 

"So  far  from  home!"  sighed  Mr  Bunker.  "And  yet 
so  cheerful  through  it  all,"  he  added. 

"  What  did  you  say  was  the  matter  ?  "  asked  the  Countess. 

Mr  Bunker  had  thought  it  both  wiser  and  more  effective 
to  maintain  a  little  mystery  round  his  friend's  malady. 

"The  doctor  hasn't  yet  given  a  decided  opinion,"  he 
replied. 

"  Can't  we  do  anything  ? "  said  Lady  Alicia,  softly. 


156  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

Mr  Bunker  thought  the  guests  were  nearly  worked  up 
to  the  proper  pitch  of  sympathy. 

"Poor  Rudolph!"  he  exclaimed.  "It  would  cheer 
him  immensely,  I  know,  and  ease  my  own  anxiety  as 
well,  if  you  would  venture  in  to  see  him  for  a  few  minutes. 
In  such  a  case  there  is  no  sympathy  so  welcome  as  a 
woman's." 

The  Countess  glanced  at  her  daughter,  and  wavered 
for  an  instant  between  those  proprieties  for  which  she 
was  a  famous  stickler  and  this  admirable  chance  of  com- 
pleting the  Baron's  conquest. 

"His  relations  are  far  away,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  looking 
pensively  out  of  the  window. 

"We  might  come  in  for  a  few  minutes,  Alicia?"  sug- 
gested Lady  Grillyer. 

"Yes,  mamma,"  replied  Lady  Alicia,  with  an  alacrity 
that  rather  surprised  their  host. 

With  a  pleasantly  dejected  air  he  ushered  the  ladies 
into  the  darkened  sick-room.  The  Baron,  striving  to 
conceal  his  exultation  under  a  rueful  semblance,  greeted 
them  with  a  languid  yet  happy  smile. 

"Ah,  Lady  Grillyer,  zis  is  kind  indeed!  And  you, 
Lady  Alicia,  how  can  I  zank  you  ?  " 

"My  daughter  and  I  are  much  distressed,  Baron,  to 
find  our  host  hors  de  combat,"  said  the  Countess,  gra- 
ciously. 

"Just  when  you  wanted  to  go  away  too!"  added  Lady 
Alicia,  sympathetically. 

The  Baron  emitted  a  happy  blend  of  sigh  and  groan. 

"Alas!"  he  replied,  "it  is  hard  indeed." 


THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  157 

"You  must  hurry  up  and  get  better,"  said  the  Countess, 
in  her  most  cheering  sick-room  manner.  "It  won't  do 
to  disappoint  the  Brierleys,  you  know." 

"You  must  come  down  for  part  of  the  time,"  smiled 
her  daughter. 

These  expressions  of  sympathy  so  affected  the  Baron 
that  he  placed  his  hand  on  his  brow  and  turned  slightly 
away  to  conceal  his  emotion.  At  the  same  time  Mr 
Bunker,  with  well-timed  dramatic  effect,  sank  wearily 
into  a  chair,  and,  laying  his  elbow  on  the  back,  hid  his 
own  face  in  his  hand. 

Their  guests  jumped  to  the  most  alarming  conclu- 
sions, and  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with  great  con- 
cern. 

"  Dear  me ! "  said  the  Countess,  "  surely  it  isn't  so  very 
serious,  Mr  Bunker;  it  isn't  infectious,  is  it?" 

The  unlucky  Baron  here  made  his  first  mistake:  with- 
out waiting  for  his  more  diplomatic  friend  to  reply,  he 
answered  hastily,  "Ach,  no,  it  is  bot  a  cold." 

Lady  Grillyer's  expression  changed. 

"A  cold!"  she  said.  "Dear  me,  that  can't  be  so  very 
serious,  Baron." 

"It  is  a  bad  cold,"  said  the  Baron. 

By  this  time  the  ladies'  eyes  were  growing  more  used 
to  the  dim  light,  and  Mr  Bunker  could  see  that  they 
were  taking  rapid  stock  of  the  garnishings. 

"This,  I  suppose,  is  your  cough-mixture,"  said  the 
Countess,  examining  the  bottle. 

The  Baron  incautiously  admitted  it  was. 

"Two  table-spoonfuls  every  half  hour!"  she  exclaimed; 


158  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"why,  I  never  heard  of  taking  a  cough-mixture  in  such 
doses.  Besides,  your  cough  doesn't  seem  so  very  bad, 
Baron." 

"  Ze  doctor  told  me  to  take  it  so,"  replied  the  Baron. 

The  Countess  turned  towards  Mr  Bunker  and  said, 
with  a  touch  of  suspicion  in  her  voice,  "I  thought,  Mr 
Bunker,  the  doctor  had  given  no  opinion." 

The  Baron  threw  a  glance  of  intense  ferocity  at  his 
friend. 

"In  the  Baron's  desire  to  spare  your  feelings,"  replied 
Mr  Bunker,  gravely,  "he  has  been  a  little  inaccurate; 
that  is  not  precisely  an  ordinary  cough-mixture." 

"Oh,"  said  the  Countess. 

Lady  Alicia's  attention  had  been  strongly  attracted 
by  the  bath,  and  suddenly  she  exclaimed,  "Why,  there 
are  goldfish  in  it!" 

The  Baron's  nerve  was  fast  deserting  him. 

"Ze  doctor  ordered  zem,"  he  began — "I  mean,  I  am 
fond  of  fishes." 

The  Countess  looked  hard  at  the  unhappy  young  man, 
and  then  turned  severely  to  his  friend. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  the  Baron  ?  "  she  demanded. 

Mr  Bunker  saw  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  heroic 
measures. 

"The  dog  was  destroyed  at  once,"  he  replied,  with 
intense  gravity.  "It  is  therefore  impossible  to  say  ex- 
actly what  is  the  matter." 

"  The  dog/  "  cried  the  two  ladies  together. 

"By  this  evening,"  he  continued,  "we  shall  know  the 
worst — or  the  best." 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  159 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?."  exclaimed  the  Countess,  with- 
drawing a  step  from  the  bed. 

"I  mean,"  replied  Mr  Bunker,  with  a  happy  inspira- 
tion, "that  this  bath  is  a  delicate  test.  No  victim  of  the 
dread  disease  of  hydrophobia  can  bear  to  look " 

But  the  Countess  gave  him  no  time  to  finish.  Even 
as  he  was  speaking  the  Baron's  face  had  passed  through 
a  series  of  the  most  extraordinary  expressions,  which  she 
not  unnaturally  put  down  to  premonitory  symptoms. 

"It's  beginning  already!"  she  shrieked.  "Alicia,  my 
love,  come  quickly.  How  dare  you  expose  us,  sir  ?  " 

"Calm  yourselves.  I  assure  you "  pleaded  Mr 

Bunker,  coming  hastily  after  them,  but  they  were  at  the 
door  before  him. 

The  hapless  Baron  could  stand  it  no  longer.  Crying, 
"No,  no,  it  is  false!"  he  sprang  out  of  bed,  arrayed  in  a 
tweed  suit  only  half  concealed  by  his  night-shirt,  and, 
forgetting  all  about  the  bath,  descended  with  a  great 
splash  among  the  startled  goldfish. 

The  Countess  paused  in  the  half-opened  door  and 
looked  at  him  with  horror  that  rapidly  passed  into  intense 
indignation. 

"I  am  not  ill!"  he  cried.  "It  vos  zat  rascal  Bonker's 
plot.  He  made  me!  I  haf  not  hydrophobia!" 

Most  unkindest  cut  of  all,  Lady  Alicia  went  off  into 
hysterical  giggles.  For  a  moment  her  mother  glared 
at  the  two  young  men  in  silence,  and  then  only  remark- 
ing, "I  have  never  been  so  insulted  before,"  she  went 
out,  and  her  daughter  followed  her. 

As  the  door  closed  Mr  Bunker  went  off  into  roar  after 


160  THE    LUNATIC    AT   LARGE 

roar  of  laughter,  but  the  humorous  side  of  the  situation 
seemed  to  appeal  very  slightly  to  his  injured  friend. 

"You  rascal!  you  villain!"  he  shouted,  "zis  is  ze  end 
of  our  friendship,  Bonker!  Do  you  use  ze  pistols?  Tell 
me,  sare!" 

"My  dear  Baron,"  gasped  Mr  Bunker,  "I  could  not 
put  such  an  inartistic  end  to  so  fine  a  joke  for  the 
world." 

"You  vill  not  fight?  Coward!  poltroon!  I  know  not 
ze  English  name  bad  enoff  for  you!" 

With  difficulty  Mr  Bunker  composed  himself  and 
replied,  still  smiling:  "After  all,  Baron,  what  harm  has 
been  done  ?  I  get  all  the  blame,  and  the  sympathy  you 
wanted  is  sure  to  turn  to  you." 

"False  friend!"  thundered  the  Baron. 

"My  dear  Baron!"  said  Mr  Bunker,  mildly,  "whose 
fault  was  it  that  the  plot  miscarried  ?  If  you'd  only  left 
it  all  to  me " 

"  Left  it  to  you !  Yes,  I  left  too  moch  to  you !  Traitor, 
it  vas  a  trick  to  vin  ze  Lady  Alicia  for  yourself!  Speak 
to  me  nevermore!"  And  with  that  the  infuriated  noble- 
man rushed  off  to  his  own  room. 

As  there  was  no  further  sign  of  him  for  the  next  half 
hour,  Mr  Bunker,  still  smiling  to  himself  at  the  recollec- 
tion, went  out  to  take  the  air;  but  just  as  he  was  about  to 
descend  the  stairs  he  spied  Lady  Alicia  lingering  in  a 
passage.  He  turned  back  and  went  up  to  her. 

She  began  at  once  in  a  low,  hurried  voice  that  seemed 
to  have  a  strain  of  anger  running  beneath  it. 

"I  got  the  two  letters  I  wrote  you  returned  to  me  to- 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  161 

day  through  the  dead-letter  office.  Nothing  was  known 
about  you  at  the  address  you  gave." 

"I  am  not  surprised,"  he  replied. 

"Then  it  was  false?" 

"As  an  address  it  was  perfectly  genuine,  only  it  didn't 
happen  to  be  mine." 

"Were  you  ever  in  the  Church?" 

"Not  to  my  personal  knowledge." 

"Yet  you  said  you  were?" 

"I  was  in  an  asylum." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  fine  contempt,  while  he 
smiled  back  at  her  with  great  amusement. 

"You  have  deceived  me,"  she  said,  "and  you  have 
treated  your  other  friend — who  is  far  too  good  for  you — 
disgracefully.  Have  you  anything  to  say  for  your- 
self?" 

"Not  a  word,"  he  replied,  cheerfully. 

"  You  must  never  treat  me  again  as — as  I  let  you." 

As  a  smile  played  for  an  instant  about  his  face,  she 
added  quickly,  "I  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever  see  you 
again.  In  future  we  are  not  likely  to  meet." 

"  The  lady  and  the  lunatic  ?  "  said  he.  "  Well,  perhaps 
not.  Good-bye,  and  better  luck." 

"Good-bye,"  she  answered  coldly,  and  added  as  they 
parted,  "my  mother,  of  course,  is  extremely  angry  with 
you." 

"  There,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "  you  see  I  still  come  in 
useful." 

She  hurried  away,  and  Mr  Bunker  walked  slowly 
downstairs  and  out  of  the  hotel. 


162  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"It  seems  to  me,"  he  reflected,  "that  I  shall  have  to 
set  out  on  my  adventures  again  alone." 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Baron's  natural  good  temper  might  have  forgiven 
his  friend,  but  all  night  he  was  a  prey  to  something  against 
which  no  temper  is  proof.  The  Baron  was  bitterly  jealous. 
All  through  breakfast  he  never  spoke  a  word,  and  when 
Mr  Bunker  asked  him  what  train  he  intended  to  take, 
he  replied  curtly,  as  he  went  to  the  door,  "Ze  5.30." 

"And  where  do  you  go  now?" 

"Vat  is  zat  to  you?  I  go  for  a  valk.  I  vould  be 
alone." 

"Good-bye,  then,  Baron,"  said  Mr  Bunker.  "I  think 
I  shall  go  up  to  town." 

"Go,  zen,"  replied  the  Baron,  opening  the  door;  "I  haf 
no  furzer  vish  to  see  a  treacherous  sponge  zat  vill  neizer 
be  true  nor  fight,  bot  jost  takes  money." 

He  slammed  the  door  and  went  out.  If  he  had  waited 
for  a  moment,  he  would  have  seen  a  look  in  Mr  Bunker's 
face  that  he  had  never  seen  before.  He  half  started 
from  his  chair  to  follow,  and  then  sat  down  again  and 
thought  with  his  lips  very  tight  set. 

All  at  once  they  broke  into  a  smile  that  was  grimmer 
than  anything  the  Baron  had  known. 

"I  accept  your  challenge,  Baron  Rudolph  von  Blitzen- 
berg,"  he  said  to  himself;  "but  the  weapons  I  shall  choose 
myself." 

He  took  a  telegraph  form,  wrote  and  despatched  a 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  163 

wire,    and   then   with   considerable   haste   proceeded   to 
pack.     Within  an  hour  he  had  left  the  hotel. 

When  a  servant,  later  in  the  day,  was  performing, 
under  the  Baron's  directions,  the  same  office  for  him, 
a  series  of  discoveries  that  still  further  disturbed  his 
peace  of  mind  were  jointly  made.  Not  only  the  more 
sporting  portions  of  his  wardrobe  but  his  gun  and  car- 
tridges as  well,  had  vanished,  and,  search  and  storm  as 
he  liked,  there  was  not  a  trace  of  them  to  be  found. 

"Ze  rascal!"  he  muttered;  "I  did  not  zink  he  was  zief 
as  well." 

It  is  hardly  wonderful  that  he  arrived  at  Brierley 
station  in  anything  but  an  amiable  frame  of  mind.  There, 
to  his  great  annoyance  and  surprise,  he  found  no  signs 
of  Sir  Richard's  carriage;  there  were  no  stables  near, 
and,  after  fuming  for  some  time  on  the  platform,  he 
was  forced  to  leave  his  luggage  with  the  station-master 
and  proceed  on  foot  to  Brierley  Park. 

He  arrived  shortly  before  seven  o'clock,  after  a  dark 
and  muddy  tramp,  and,  still  swearing  under  his  breath, 
pulled  the  bell  with  indignant  energy. 

"I  am  ze  Baron  von  Blitzenberg,  bot  zere  vas  no  car- 
riage at  ze  station,"  he  informed  the  butler  in  his  haughtiest 
tones. 

The  man  looked  at  him  suspiciously. 

"The  Baron  arrived  this  morning,"  he  said. 

"Ze  Baron?    Vat  Baron?    I  am  ze  Baron!" 

"I  shall  fetch  Sir  Richard,"  said  the  butler,  turning 
away. 


164  THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

Presently  a  stout  florid  gentleman,  accompanied  by 
three  friends,  all  evidently  very  curious  and  amused 
about  something,  came  to  the  door,  and,  to  the  poor 
Baron's  amazement  and  horror,  he  recognised  in  one  of 
these  none  other  than  Mr  Bunker,  arrayed  with  much 
splendour  in  his  own  ornate  shooting  suit. 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  the  florid  gentleman, 
sternly. 

"Have  I  ze  pleasure  of  addressing  Sir  Richard  Brier- 
ley?"  inquired  the  Baron,  raising  his  hat  and  bowing 
profoundly. 

"You  have." 

"Zen  I  must  tell  you  zat  I  am  ze  Baron  Rudolph  von 
Blitzenberg." 

"Gom,  gom,  my  man!"  interposed  Mr  Bunker.  "I 
know  you.  Zis  man,  Sir  Richard,  has  before  annoyed 
me.  He  is  vat  you  call  impostor,  cracked;  he  has  vollowed 
me  from  Germany.  Go  avay,  man!" 

"You  are  impostor!  You  scoundrel,  Bonker!"  shouted 
the  wrathful  Baron.  "He  is  no  Baron,  Sir  Richard! 
Ha!  Vould  you  again  deceive  me,  Bonker?" 

"You  must  lock  him  up,  I  fear,"  said  Mr  Bunker. 
"To-morrow,  my  man,  you  vill  see  ze  police." 

So  completely  did  the  Baron  lose  his  head  that  he 
became  almost  inarticulate  with  rage:  his  protestations t 
however,  were  not  of  the  slightest  avail.  That  morning 
Sir  Richard  had  received  a  wire  informing  him  that  the 
Baron  was  coming  by  an  earlier  train  than  he  had  origi- 
nally intended,  and,  since  his  arrival,  the  spurious  noble- 
man had  so  ingratiated  himself  with  his  host  that  Sir 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  165 

Richard  was  filled  with  nothing  but  sympathy  for  him 
in  his  persecution.  After  a  desperate  struggle  the  un- 
fortunate Rudolph  was  overpowered  and  conveyed  in 
the  undignified  fashion  known  as  the  frog's  march  to  a 
room  in  a  remote  wing,  there  to  pass  the  night  under 
lock  and  key. 

"The  scoundrelly  German  impostor!"  exclaimed  a 
young  man,  a  fellow  visitor  of  the  Baron  Bunker's,  to  a 
tall,  military-looking  gentleman. 

Colonel  Savage  seemed  lost  in  thought. 

"It  is  a  curious  thing,  Trelawney,"  he  replied,  at 
length,  "that  the  footman  who  attends  the  Baron  should 
have  told  my  man — who,  of  course,  told  me — that  a  num- 
ber of  his  things  are  marked  'Francis  Beveridge.'  It  is 
also  rather  strange  that  this  impostor  should  have  known 
so  little  of  the  Baron's  movements  as  to  arrive  several 
hours  after  him,  assuming  he  had  hatched  a  plot  to  im- 
personate him." 

"But  the  man's  obviously  mad." 

"Must  be,"  said  the  colonel. 

The  house  party  were  assembled  in  the  drawing-room 
waiting  for  dinner  to  be  announced.  The  bogus  Baron 
was  engaged  in  an  animated  discussion  with  Colonel 
Savage  on  the  subject  of  Bavarian  shootings,  and  the 
colonel  having  omitted  to  inform  him  that  he  had  some 
personal  experience  of  these,  Mr  Bunker  was  serving 
up  such  of  his  friend's  anecdotes  as  he  could  remember 
with  sauce  more  peculiarly  his  own. 

"Five  hondred  vild  boars,"  he  was  saying,  "eight 
hondred  brace  of  partridges,  many  bears,  and  rabbits  so 


166  THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

moch  zat  it  took  five  veeks  to  bury  zem.  All  zese  ve  did 
shoot  before  breakfast,  colonel.  Aftair  breakfast  again 
ve  did  go  out " 

But  at  that  moment  his  attention  was  sharply  arrested 
by  a  question  of  Lady  Brierley's. 

"Has  Dr  Escott  arrived?"  she  asked. 

The  Baron  Bunker  paused,  and  in  spite  of  his  habitual 
coolness,  the  observant  colonel  noticed  that  he  started 
ever  so  slightly. 

"He  came  half  an  hour  ago,"  replied  Sir  Richard. 
"Ah,  here  he  is." 

As  he  spoke,  a  well-remembered  figure  came  into  the 
room,  and  after  a  welcome  from  his  hostess,  the  dinner 
procession  started. 

"Whoever  is  that  tall  fair  man  in  front?"  Dr  Escott 
asked  his  partner  as  they  crossed  the  hall. 

"Oh,  that's  the  Baron  von  Blitzenberg:  such  an  amus- 
ing man!  We  are  all  in  love  with  him  already." 

All  through  dinner  the  spurious  Baron  saw  that  Dr 
Escott's  eyes  turned  continually  and  curiously  on  him; 
yet  never  for  an  instant  did  his  spirits  droop  or  his  con- 
versation flag.  Witty  and  charming  as  ever,  he  dis- 
coursed in  his  comical  foreign  accent  to  the  amusement 
of  all  within  hearing,  and  by  the  time  the  gentlemen 
adjourned  to  the  billiard-room,  he  had  established  the 
reputation  of  being  the  most  delightful  German  ever 
seen.  Yet  Dr  Escott  grew  more  suspicious  and  be- 
wildered, and  Mr  Bunker  felt  that  he  was  being  narrowly 
watched.  The  skill  at  billiards  of  a  certain  Francis 
Beveridge  used  to  be  the  object  of  the  doctor's  unbounded 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  167 

admiration,  and  it  was  with  the  liveliest  interest  that  he 
watched  a  game  between  Colonel  Savage  and  the  Baron. 

That  nobleman  knew  well  the  danger  of  displaying 
his  old  dexterity,  and  to  the  onlookers  it  soon  became 
apparent  that  this  branch  of  his  education  had  been 
neglected.  He  not  only  missed  the  simplest  shots,  but 
seemed  very  ignorant  of  the  rules  of  the  English  game, 
and  in  consequence  he  came  in  for  a  little  good-natured 
chaff  from  Sir  Richard  and  Trelawney.  When  the 
colonel's  score  stood  at  90  and  the  Baron  had  scarcely 
reached  25  Trelawney  cried,  "I'll  bet  you  ten  to  one  you 
don't  win,  Baron!" 

"  What  in  ? "  asked  the  Baron,  and  the  colonel  noticed 
that  for  the  first  time  he  pronounced  a  w  correctly. 

"Sovereigns,"  said  Trelawney,  gaily. 

The  temptation  was  irresistible. 

"Done!"  said  the  Baron.  With  a  professional  disre- 
gard for  conventions  he  bolted  the  white  into  the  middle 
pocket,  leaving  his  own  ball  nicely  beside  the  red.  Down 
in  its  turn  went  the  red,  and  Mr  Bunker  was  on  the  spot. 
Three  followed  three  in  monotonous  succession,  Tre- 
lawney's  face  growing  longer  and  Dr  Escott  getting  more 
and  more  excited,  till  with  a  smile  Mr  Bunker  laid  down 
his  cue,  a  sensational  winner. 

His  victory  was  received  in  silence:  Trelawney  handed 
over  two  five-pound  notes  without  a  word,  and  the  colonel 
returned  to  his  whisky-and-soda.  Dr  Escott  could  con- 
tain himself  no  longer,  and  whispering  something  to  Sir 
Richard,  the  two  left  the  room. 

Imperturbable  as  ever,  Mr  Bunker  talked  gaily  for  a 


168  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

few  minutes  to  an  unresponsive  audience,  and  then, 
remarking  that  he  would  join  the  ladies,  left  the  room. 

A  minute  or  two  later  Sir  Richard,  with  an  anxious 
face,  returned  with  Dr  Escott. 

"Where  is  the  Baron?"  he  asked. 

"Gone  to  join  the  ladies,"  replied  Trelawney,  adding 
under  his  breath,  "d n  him!" 

But  the  Baron  was  not  with  the  ladies,  nor,  search  the 
house  as  they  might,  was  there  a  trace  to  be  seen  of  that 
accomplished  nobleman. 

"He  has  gone!"  said  Sir  Richard. 

"What  the  deuce  is  the  meaning  of  it?"  exclaimed 
Trelawney. 

Colonel  Savage  smiled  grimly  and  suggested,  "Per- 
haps he  wants  to  give  the  impostor  an  innings." 

"  Dr  Escott,  I  think,  can  tell  you,"  replied  the  baronet. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  doctor,  "the  man  whom  you 
have  met  as  the  Baron  von  Blitzenberg  is  none  other 
than  a  most  cunning  and  determined  lunatic.  He  escaped 
from  the  asylum  where  I  am  at  present  assistant  doctor, 
after  all  but  murdering  me;  he  has  been  seen  in  London 
since,  but  how  he  came  to  impersonate  the  unfortunate 
gentleman  whom  you  locked  up  this  afternoon  I  cannot 
say." 

Before  they  broke  up  for  the  night  the  genuine  Baron, 
released  from  confinement  and  soothed  by  the  humblest 
apologies  and  a  heavy  supper,  recounted  the  main  events 
in  Mr  Beveridge  alias  Bunker's  brief  career  in  town. 
On  his  exploits  in  St  Egbert's  he  felt  some  delicacy  in 
touching,  but  at  the  end  of  what  was  after  all  only  a 


THE    LUNATIC    AT   LARGE  169 

fragmentary  and  one-sided  narrative,  even  the  defrauded 
Trelawney  could  not  but  admit  that,  whatever  the  de- 
parted gentleman's  failings,  his  talents  at  least  were 
worthy  of  a  better  cause. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

The  party  at  Brierley  Park  had  gone  at  last  to  bed. 
The  Baron  was  installed  in  his  late  usurper's  room,  and 
from  the  clock-tower  the  hour  of  three  had  just  been 
tolled.  Sympathy  and  Sir  Richard's  cellar  had  greatly 
mollified  the  Baron's  wrath;  he  had  almost  begun  to  see 
the  humorous  side  of  his  late  experience;  as  a  rival  Mr 
Bunker  was  extinct,  and  with  an  easy  mind  and  a  placid 
smile  he  had  fallen  asleep  some  two  hours  past. 

The  fire  burned  low,  and  for  long  nothing  but  the 
occasional  sigh  of  the  wind  in  the  trees  disturbed  the 
silence.  At  length,  had  the  Baron  been  awake,  he  might 
have  heard  the  stealthiest  of  footsteps  in  the  corridor 
outside.  Then  they  stopped;  his  door  was  gently  opened, 
and  first  a  head  and  then  a  whole  man  slipped  in. 

Still  the  Baron  slept,  dreaming  peacefully  of  his  late 
companion.  They  were  driving  somewhere  in  a  hansom, 
Mr  Bunker  was  telling  one  of  his  most  amusing  stories, 
when  there  came  a  shock,  the  hansom  seemed  to  turn  a 
somersault,  and  the  Baron  awoke.  At  first  he  thought 
he  must  be  dreaming  still;  the  electric  light  had  been 
turned  on  and  the  room  was  bright  as  day,  but,  more 
bewildering  yet,  Mr  Bunker  was  seated  on  his  bed,  gazing 
at  him  with  an  expression  of  thoughtful  amusement. 


170  THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

"Well,  Baron,"  he  said,  "I  trust  you  are  comfortable 
in  these  excellent  quarters." 

The  Baron,  half  awake  and  wholly  astonished,  was 
unable  to  collect  his  ideas  in  time  to  make  any  reply. 

"But  remember,"  continued  Mr  Bunker,  "you  have 
a  reputation  to  live  up  to.  I  have  set  the  standard  high 
for  Bavarian  barons." 

The  indignant  Baron  at  last  recovered  his  wits. 

"If  you  do  not  go  away  at  vonce,"  he  said,  raising  him- 
self on  his  elbows,  "  I  shall  raise  ze  house  upon  you ! " 

"  Have  you  forgotten  that  you  are  talking  to  a  dangerous 
lunatic,  who  probably  never  stirs  without  his  razor  ?  " 

The  Baron  looked  at  him  and  turned  a  little  pale.  He 
made  no  further  movement,  but  answered  stoutly  enough, 
"Vat  do  you  vant?" 

"In  the  first  place,  I  want  my  brush  and  comb,  a  few 
clothes,  and  my  hand-bag.  Events  happened  rather  more 
quickly  this  evening  than  I  had  anticipated." 

"Takezem." 

"I  should  also  like,"  continued  Mr  Bunker,  unmoved, 
"to  have  a  little  talk  with  you.  I  think  I  owe  you  some 
explanation — perhaps  an  apology  or  two — and  I'm  afraid 
it's  my  last  chance." 

"Zay  it  zen." 

"Of  course  I  understand  that  you  make  no  hostile 
demonstration  till  I  am  finished?  A  hunted  man  must 
take  precautions,  you  know." 

"I  vill  let  you  go." 

"Thanks,  Baron." 

Mr  Bunker  folded  his  arms,  leaned  his  back  against 


171 

the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  began  in  his  half-bantering  way, 
"I  have  amused  you,  Baron,  now  and  then,  you  must 
admit?" 

The  Baron  made  no  reply. 

"That  I  place  to  my  credit,  and  I  think  few  debts  are 
better  worth  repaying.  On  the  other  hand,  I  confess  I 
have  subsisted  for  some  time  entirely  on  your  kindness. 
I'm  afraid  that  alone  counterbalances  the  debt,  and 
when  it  comes  to  my  being  the  means  of  your  taking  a 
bath  in  mixed  company  and  spending  an  evening  in  a 
locked  room,  there's  no  doubt  the  balance  is  greatly  on 
your  side." 

"  I  zink  so,"  observed  the  Baron. 

"So  I'll  tell  you  a  true  story,  a  favour  with  which  I 
haven't  indulged  any  one  for  some  considerable  time." 

The  Baron  coughed,  but  said  nothing. 

"  My  biography  for  all  practical  purposes,"  Mr  Bunker 
continued,  "begins  in  that  sequestered  retreat,  Clank- 
wood  Asylum.  How  and  with  whom  I  came  there  I 
haven't  the  very  faintest  recollection.  I  simply  woke  up 
from  an  extraordinary  drowsiness  to  find  myself  recover- 
ing from  a  sharp  attack  of  what  I  may  most  euphoniously 
call  mental  excitement.  The  original  cause  of  it  is  very 
dim  in  my  mind,  and  has,  so  far  as  I  remember,  nothing 
to  do  with  the  rest  of  the  story.  The  attack  was  very 
short,  I  believe.  I  soon  came  to  something  more  or  less 
like  myself;  only,  Baron,  the  singular  thing  is,  that  it  was 
to  all  intents  and  purposes  a  new  self — whether  better 
or  worse,  my  faulty  memory  does  not  permit  me  to  say. 
I'd  clean  forgotten  who  I  was  and  all  about  me.  I  found 


172  THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

myself  called  Francis  Beveridge,  but  that  wasn't  my  old 
name,  I  know." 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  the  Baron,  growing  interested  despite 
himself. 

"And  the  most  remarkable  thing  of  all  is  that  up  till 
this  day  I  haven't  the  very  vaguest  notion  what  my  real 
name  is." 

"  Zo  ?  "  said  the  Baron.   "  Bot  vy  should  they  change  it  ?  " 

"There  you've  laid  your  finger  on  the  mystery,  Baron. 
Why?  Heaven  knows:  I  wish  I  did!" 

The  Baron  looked  at  him  with  undisguised  interest. 

"Strange!"  he  said,  thoughtfully. 

"Damnably  strange.  I  found  myself  compelled  to 
live  in  an  asylum  and  answer  to  a  new  name,  and  really, 
don't  you  know,  under  the  circumstances  I  could  give  no 
very  valid  reason  for  getting  out.  I  seemed  to  have 
blossomed  there  like  one  of  the  asylum  plants.  I  couldn't 
possibly  have  been  more  identified  with  the  place.  Be- 
sides, I'm  free  to  confess  that  for  some  time  my  reason, 
taking  it  all  in  all,  wasn't  particularly  valid  on  any  point. 
By  George,  I  had  a  funny  time!  Ha,  ha,  ha!" 

His  mirth  was  so  infectious  that  the  Baron  raised  his 
voice  in  a  hearty  "Ha,  ha!"  and  then  stopped  abruptly, 
and  said  cautiously,  "Haf  a  care,  Bonker,  zey  may  hear!" 

"However,  Baron,"  Mr  Bunker  continued,  "out  I 
was  determined  to  get,  and  out  I  came  in  the  manner 
of  which  perhaps  my  friend  Escott  has  already  informed 
you." 

The  Baron  grinned  and  nodded. 

"I  came  up  to  town,  and  on  my  very  first  evening  I 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  173 

had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  the  Baron  Rudolph  von 
Blitzenberg — as  perhaps  you  may  remember.  In  my 
own  defence,  Baron,  I  may  fairly  plead  that  since  I  could 
remember  nothing  about  my  past  career,  I  was  entitled 
to  supply  the  details  from  my  imagination.  After  all, 
I  have  no  proof  that  some  of  my  stories  may  not  have 
been  correct.  I  used  this  privilege  freely  in  Clankwood, 
and,  in  a  word,  since  I  couldn't  tell  the  truth  if  I  wanted 
to,  I  quenched  the  desire." 

"You  hombog!"  said  the  Baron,  not  without  a  note  of 
admiration. 

"  I  was,  and  I  gloried  in  it.  Baron,  if  you  ever  want  to 
know  how  ample  a  thing  life  can  be,  become  a  certified 
lunatic!  You  are  quite  irresponsible  for  your  debts, 
your  crimes,  and,  not  least,  your  words.  It  certainly 
enlarges  one's  horizon.  All  this  time,  I  may  say,  I  was 
racking  my  brains — which,  by  the  way,  have  been  steadily 
growing  saner  in  other  matters — for  some  recollections 
of  my  previous  whereabouts,  my  career,  if  I  had  any, 
and,  above  all,  of  my  name." 

"  Can  you  remember  nozing  ?  " 

"  I  can  remember  a  large  country  house  which  I  think 
belonged  to  me,  but  in  what  part  of  the  country  it  stands 
I  haven't  the  slightest  recollection.  I  can't  remember 
any  family,  and  as  no  one  has  inquired  for  me,  I  don't 
suppose  I  had  any.  Many  incidents — sporting,  festive, 
amusing,  and  discreditable — I  remember  distinctly,  and 
many  faces,  but  there's  nothing  to  piece  them  together 
with.  Can  you  recall  one  or  two  incidents  in  town, 
when  people  spoke  to  me  or  bowed  to  me  ?  " 


174  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

"Yes,  veil;  I  vondered  zen." 

"  I  suppose  they  knew  me.  In  a  general  sort  of  way  I 
knew  them.  But  when  a  man  doesn't  know  his  own 
name,  and  will  probably  be  replaced  in  an  asylum  if  he's 
identified,  there  isn't  much  encouragement  for  greeting 
old  friends.  And  do  you  remember  my  search  for  a 
name  in  the  hotel  at  St  Egbert's  ?  " 

"Yah — zat  is,  yes." 

"It  was  for  my  own  I  was  looking." 

"You  found  it  not?" 

"No.  The  worst  of  it  is,  I  can't  even  remember  what 
letter  it  began  with.  Sometimes  I  think  it  was  M,  or 
perhaps  N,  and  sometimes  I'm  almost  sure  it  was  E.  It 
will  come  to  me  some  day,  no  doubt,  Baron,  but  till  it 
does  I  shall  have  to  wander  about  a  nameless  man,  look- 
ing for  it.  And  after  all,  I  am  not  without  the  consola- 
tions of  a  certain  useful,  workaday  kind  of  philosophy." 

He  rose  from  the  bed  and  smiled  humorously  at  his 
friend. 

"And  now,  Baron,"  he  said,  "it  only  remains  to  offer 
you  such  thanks  and  apologies  as  a  lunatic  may,  and 
then  clear  out  before  the  cock  crows.  These  are  my 
brushes,  I  think." 

There  was  still  something  on  the  Baron's  mind:  he  lay 
for  a  moment  watching  Mr  Bunker  collect  a  few  odds 
and  ends  and  put  them  rapidly  into  a  small  bag,  and 
then  blurted  out  suddenly,  "Ze  Lady  Alicia — do  you 
loff  her?" 

"By  Jove!"  exclaimed  Mr  Bunker,  "I'd  forgotten  all 
about  her.  I  ought  to  have  told  you  that  I  once  met  her 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  175 

before,  when  she  showed  sympathy — practical  sympathy, 
I  may  add — for  an  unfortunate  gentleman  in  Clank- 
wood.  That's  all." 

"  You  do  not  loff  her  ?  "  persisted  the  Baron. 

"I,  my  dear  chap?  No.  You  are  most  welcome  to 
her — and  the  countess." 

"  Does  she  not  loff  you  ?  " 

"On  my  honour,  no.  I  told  her  a  few  early  reminis- 
cences; she  happened  to  discover  they  were  not  what  is 
generally  known  as  true,  and  took  so  absurd  a  view  of 
the  case  that  I  doubt  whether  she  would  speak  to  me 
again  if  she  met  me.  In  fact,  Baron,  if  I  read  the  omens 
aright — and  I've  had  some  experience — you  only  need 
courage  and  a  voice." 

The  bed  creaked,  there  was  a  volcanic  upheaval  of 
the  clothes  as  the  Baron  sprang  out  on  to  the  floor,  and 
the  next  instant  Mr  Bunker  was  clasped  in  his  embrace. 

"Ach,  my  own  Bonker,  forgif  me!  I  haf  suspected, 
I  haf  not  been  ze  true  friend;  you  have  sairved  me  right 
to  gom  here  as  ze  Baron.  I  vas  too  bad  a  Baron  to  gom ! 
You  have  amused  me,  you  have  instrogted,  you  have 
vanned  my  heart.  My  dear  frient!" 

To  tell  the  truth,  Mr  Bunker  looked,  for  the  first  time 
in  their  acquaintance,  a  little  ill  at  ease.  He  laughed, 
but  it  sounded  affected. 

"My  dear  fellow — hang  it!  You'd  make  me  out  a 
martyr.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I've  been  such  a  thorn  as 
very  few  people  would  stand  in  their  flesh.  There's 
nothing  to  forgive,  my  dear  Baron,  and  a  lot  to  thank 
you  for." 


176  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"I  haf  been  rude,  Bonker;  I  haf  insulted  you!  You 
forgif  me?" 

"With  all  my  heart,  it  you  think  it's  needed,  but " 

"  And  you  vill  not  go  now  ?    You  vill  stay  here  ?  " 

"What,  two  Barons  at  once?  My  dear  chap,  we'd 
merely  confuse  the  butler." 

"Ach,  you  vill  joke,  you  hombog!  But  you  most 
stay!" 

"And  what  about  my  friend,  Dr  Escott?  No,  Baron, 
it  would  only  mean  breakfast  and  the  next  train  to  Clank- 
wood." 

"Zey  vill  not  take  you  ven  you  tell  zem!  I  shall  insist 
viz  Sir  Richard!" 

"  The  law  is  the  law,  Baron,  and  I'm  a  certified  lunatic. 
Here  we  must  part  till  the  weather  clears;  and  mind,  you 
mustn't  say  a  word  about  my  coming  to  see  you." 

The  Baron  looked  at  him  disconsolately. 

"You  most  really  go,  Bonker?" 

"Really,  Baron." 

"And  vere  to?" 

"  To  London  town  again  by  the  milk  train." 

"  And  vat  vill  you  do  zere  ?  " 

"Look  for  my  name." 

"Bothow?" 

Mr  Bunker  hesitated. 

"I  have  a  little  clue,"  he  said  at  last,  "only  a  thread, 
but  I'll  try  it  for  what  it's  worth." 

"Haf  you  money  enoff?" 

"Thanks  to  your  generosity  and  my  skill  at  billiards, 
yes,  which  reminds  me  that  I  must  return  poor  Tre- 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  177 

lawney's  ten  pounds  some  day.  At  present,  I  can't 
afford  to  be  scrupulous.  So,  you  see,  I'm  provided 
for." 

"Cigars  at  least,  Bonker!  You  most  smoke,  my  frient 
vizout  a  name!" 

The  Baron,  night-shirted  and  barefooted  as  he  was, 
dived  into  his  portmanteau  and  produced  a  large  box  of 
cigars. 

"You  like  zese,  Bonker.  Zey  are  your  own  choice. 
Smoke  zem  and  zink  of  me!" 

"A  few,  Baron,  would  be  a  pleasant  reminiscence," 
said  his  friend,  with  a  smile,  "if  you  really  insist." 

"All,  Bonker, — I  vill  not  keep  vun!  I  can  get  more. 
No,  you  most  take  zem  all!" 

Mr  Bunker  opened  his  bag  and  put  in  the  box  without 
a  word. 

"You  most  write,"  said  the  Baron,  "tell  me  vere  you 
are.  I  shall  not  tell  any  soul,  bot  ven  I  can,  I  shall  gom 
up,  and  ve  shall  sup  togezzer  vunce  more.  Pairhaps  ve 
may  haf  anozzer  adventure,  ha,  ha!" 

The  Baron's  laugh  was  almost  too  hearty  to  be  true. 

"I  shall  let  you  know,  as  soon  as  I  find  a  room.  It 
won't  be  in  the  Mayonaise  this  time!  Good-bye:  good 
sport  and  luck  in  love!" 

"Good-bye,  my  frient,  good-bye,"  said  the  Baron, 
squeezing  his  hand. 

His  friend  was  half  out  of  the  door  when  he  turned, 
and  said  with  an  intonation  quite  foreign  either  to  Bev- 
eridge  or  Bunker,  and  yet  which  came  very  pleasantly, 
"I  forgot  to  warn  you  of  one  thing  when  I  advised  you 


178  THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

to  try  the  rdle  of  certified  lunatic — you  are  not  likely  to 
make  so  good  a  friend  as  I  have." 

He  shut  the  door  noiselessly  and  was  gone. 

The  Baron  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  for  fully 
five  minutes,  looking  blankly  at  the  closed  door;  then 
with  a  sigh  he  turned  out  the  light  and  tumbled  into  bed 
again. 


PART  IV. 


CHAPTER  I. 


PH  I  ^HE  Dover  express  was  nearing  town :  evening  had 
begun  to  draw  in,  and  from  the  wayside  houses 

J^        people  saw  the  train  roar  by  like  a  huge  glow- 
worm; but  they  could  hardly  guess  that  it  was 
hurrying  two  real  actors  to  the  climax  of  a  real  comedy. 

From  the  opposite  sides  of  a  first-class  carriage  these 
two  looked  cheerfully  at  one  another.  The  Channel 
was  safely  behind  them,  London  was  close  ahead,  and 
the  piston  of  the  engine  seemed  to  thump  a  triumphal  air. 

"We've  done  it,  Twiddel,  my  boy!"  said  the  one. 

"Thank  Heaven!"  replied  the  other. 

"And  myself,"  added  his  friend. 

"Yes,"  said  Twiddel;  "you  played  your  part  uncom- 
monly well,  Welsh." 

"It  was  the  deuce  of  a  fine  spree!"  sighed  Welsh. 

"The  deuce,"  assented  Twiddel. 

"I'm  only  sorry  it's  all  over,"  Welsh  went  on,  gazing 
regretfully  up  at  the  lamp  of  the  carriage.  "  I'd  give  the 
remains  of  my  character  and  my  chance  of  a  public  funeral 
to  be  starting  again  from  Paris  by  the  morning  train !  " 

Twiddel  laughed. 

"With  the  same  head  you  had  that  morning?'* 

179 


180  THE    LUNATIC    AT   LARGE 

"Yes,  by  George!  Even  with  the  same  mile  of  dusty 
gullet!" 

"It's  all  over  now,"  said  Twiddel,  philosophically, 
and  yet  rather  nervously — "at  least  the  amusing  part 
of  it." 

"All  the  fun,  my  boy,  all  the  fun.  All  the  dinners 
and  the  drinks,  and  the  touching  of  hats  to  the  aristocratic 
travellers,  and  the  girls  that  sighed,  and  the  bowing  and 
scraping.  Do  you  remember  the  sporting  baronet  who 
knew  my  uncle?  Now,  I'm  plain  Robert  Welsh,  whose 
uncles,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  don't  know  a  baronet  among 
'em." 

He  smiled  a  little  sardonically. 

"And  the  baron  at  Fogelschloss,"  said  Twiddel. 

"Who  insisted  on  learning  my  pedigree  back  to  Alfred 
the  Great!  Gad,  I  gave  it  him,  though,  and  I  doubt 
whether  the  real  Essington  could  have  done  as  much. 
I'd  rather  surprise  some  of  these  noblemen  if  I  turned  up 
again  in  my  true  character!" 

"Thank  the  Lord,  we're  not  likely  to  meet  them  again!" 
exclaimed  the  doctor,  devoutly. 

"No,"  said  Welsh;  "here  endeth  the  second  lesson." 

His  friend,  who  had  been  well  brought  up,  looked  a 
trifle  uncomfortable  at  this  quotation. 

"I  say,"  he  remarked  a  few  minutes  later,  "we  haven't 
finished  yet.  We've  got  to  get  the  man  out  again,  and 
hand  him  back  to  his  friends." 

"Cured,"  said  Welsh,  with  a  laugh. 

"  I  wonder  how  he  is  ?  " 

"We'll  soon  see." 


THE   LUNATIC   AT   LARGE  181 

They  fell  silent  again,  while  the  train  hurried  nearer 
and  nearer  London  town.  Welsh  seemed  to  be  musing 
on  some  nice  point,  it  might  be  of  conscience,  it  might 
also  conceivably  be  of  a  more  practical  texture.  At  last 
he  said,  "  There's  just  one  thing,  old  man.  What  about 
the  fee?" 

"I'll  get  a  cheque  for  it,  I  suppose,"  his  friend  replied, 
with  an  almost  excessive  air  of  mastery  over  the  prob- 
lem. 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Welsh;  "you  know  what  I  mean. 
It's  a  delicate  question  and  all  that,  but,  hang  it,  it's  got 
to  be  answered." 

"What  has?" 

"The  division  of  the  spoil." 

Twiddel  looked  dignified. 

"I'll  see  you  get  your  share,  old  man,"  he  answered, 
easily. 

"But  what  share?" 

"You  suggested  £100,  I  think." 

"Out  of  £500 — when  I've  done  all  the  deceiving  and 
told  all  the  lies!  Come,  old  man!" 

"Well,  what  do  you  want?" 

"Do  you  remember  a  certain  crisis  when  we'd  made 
a  slip " 

"You'd  made  a  slip!" 

"We  had  made  a  slip,  and  you  wanted  to  chuck  the 
game  and  bolt?  Do  you  remember  also  the  terms  I 
proposed  when  I  offered  to  beard  the  local  god  almighty 
in  his  lair  and  explain  it  all  away,  and  how  he  became 
our  bosom  pal  and  we  were  saved  ? " 


182  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"Well?" 

"£300  to  me,  $200  to  you,"  said  Welsh,  decisively. 

"Rot,  old  man.  I'll  share  fairly,  if  you  insist.  £250 
apiece,  will  that  do  ?  " 

Welsh  said  nothing,  but  his  face  was  no  longer  the 
countenance  of  the  jovial  adventurer. 

"  It  will  have  to,  I  suppose,"  he  replied,  at  length. 

It  was  with  this  little  cloud  on  the  horizon  that  they 
saw  the  lights  of  London  twinkle  through  the  windows, 
and  were  carried  into  the  clamour  of  the  platforms. 

They  both  drove  first  to  Twiddel's  rooms;  and  as  they 
looked  out  once  more  on  the  life  and  lights  and  traffic  of 
the  streets,  their  faces  cleared  again. 

"  We'll  have  a  merry  evening ! "  cried  Welsh. 

"A  little  supper,"  suggested  Twiddel;  "a  music- 
hall " 

"Et  cetera,"  added  Welsh,  with  a  laugh. 

The  doctor  had  written  of  their  coming,  and  they 
found  a  fire  in  the  back  room,  and  the  table  laid. 

"Ah,"  cried  Welsh,  "this  looks  devilish  comfortable." 

"A  letter  for  me,"  said  Twiddel;  "from  Billson,  I 
think." 

He  read  it  and  threw  it  to  his  friend,  remarking,  "  I  call 
this  rather  cool  of  him." 

Welsh  read — 

"DEAR  GEORGE, — I  am  just  off  for  three  weeks'  holi- 
day. Sorry  for  leaving  your  practice,  but  I  think  it  can 
look  after  itself  till  you  return. 

"You  have  only  had  two  patients,  and  one  fee  between 
them.  The  second  man  vanished  mysteriously.  I  shall 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  183 

tell  you  about  it  when  I  come  back.    He  boned  a  bill,  too, 
I  fancy,  but  the  story  will  keep. 

"  I  am  looking  forward  to  hearing  the  true  tale  of  your 
adventures.  Good  luck  to  you. — Yours  ever, 

THOMAS  BILLSON." 

"Boned  a  bill?"  exclaimed  Welsh.  "What  bill,  I 
wonder  ?  " 

"Something  that  came  when  I  was  away,  I  suppose. 
Hang  it,  I  think  Billson  might  have  looked  after  things 
better!" 

"It  sounds  queer,"  said  Welsh,  reflectively;  "I  wonder 
what  it  was  ?  " 

"Confound  Billson,  he  might  have  told  me,"  observed 
the  doctor.  "  But,  I  say,  you  know  we  have  something 
more  practical  to  see  to." 

"Getting  the  man  out  again?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  let's  have  a  little  grub  first." 

Twiddel  rang  the  bell,  and  the  frowsy  little  maid  en- 
tered, carrying  a  letter  on  a  tray. 

"Dinner,"  said  he. 

"Please,  sir,"  began  the  maid,  holding  out  the  tray, 
"  this  come  for  you  near  a  month  agow,  but  Missis  she  bin 
and  forgot  to  send  it  hafter  you." 

"  Confound  her ! "  said  Twiddel,  taking  the  letter. 

He  looked  at  the  envelope,  and  remarked  with  a  little 
start  of  nervous  excitement,  "  From  Dr  Congleton." 

"  News  of  Mr  Beveridge,"  laughed  Welsh. 

The  doctor  read  the  first  few  lines,  and  then,  as  if  he  had 
got  an  electric  shock,  the  letter  fell  from  his  hand,  and  an 


184  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

expression  of  the  most  utter  and  lively  consternation  came 
over  his  face. 

"Heavens!"  he  ejaculated,  "it's  all  up." 

"  What's  up  ?  "  cried  Welsh,  snatching  at  the  letter. 

"He's  run  away!" 

Welsh  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  in  some  astonish- 
ment, and  then  burst  out  laughing. 

"  What  a  joke ! "  he  cried ;  "  I  don't  see  anything  to  make 
a  fuss  about.  We're  jolly  well  rid  of  him." 

"The  fee!  I  won't  get  a  penny  till  I  bring  him  back. 
And  the  whole  thing  will  be  found  out!" 

As  the  full  meaning  of  this  predicament  burst  upon 
Welsh,  his  face  underwent  a  change  by  no  means  pleasant 
to  watch.  For  a  full  minute  he  swore,  and  then  an  omi- 
nous silence  fell  upon  the  room. 

Twiddel  was  the  first  to  recover  himself. 

" Let  me  see  the  letter,"  he  said;  "I  haven't  finished  it." 

Welsh  read  it  aloud — 

"DEAR  TWIDDEL, — I  regret  to  inform  you  that  the 
patient,  Francis  Beveridge,  whom  you  placed  under  my 
care,  has  escaped  from  Clankwood.  We  have  made  every 
inquiry  consistent  with  strict  privacy,  but  unfortunately 
have  not  yet  been  able  to  lay  our  hands  upon  him.  We 
only  know  that  he  left  Ashditch  Junction  in  the  London 
express,  and  was  seen  walking  out  of  St  Euston's  Cross. 
How  he  has  been  able  to  maintain  himself  in  concealment 
without  money  or  clothes,  I  am  unable  to  imagine. 

"  As  no  inquiries  have  been  made  for  him  by  his  cousin 
Mr  Welsh,  or  any  other  of  his  friends  or  relatives,  I  am 
writing  to  you  that  you  may  inform  them,  and  I  hope  that 
this  letter  may  follow  you  abroad  without  delay.  I  may 


THE    LUNATIC    AT   LARGE  185 

add  that  the  circumstances  of  his  escape  showed  most  un- 
usual cunning,  and  could  not  possibly  have  been  guarded 
against. 

"  Trusting  that  you  are  having  a  pleasant  holiday,  I  am, 
yours  very  truly,  ADOLPHUS  S.  CONGLETON." 

The  two  looked  at  one  another  in  silence  for  a  minute, 
and  then  Welsh  said,  fiercely,  "  You  must  catch  him  again, 
Twiddel.  Do  you  think  I  am  going  to  have  all  my  risk 
and  trouble  for  nothing  ?  " 

"  7  must  catch  him !    Do  you  suppose  /  let  him  loose  ? ' 

"You  must  catch  him,  all  the  same." 

"  I  shan't  bother  my  head  about  him,"  answered  Twid- 
del, with  the  recklessness  of  despair. 

"You  won't?  You  want  to  have  the  story  known,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"I  don't  care  if  it  is." 

Welsh  looked  at  him  for  a  minute:  then  he  jumped  up 
and  exclaimed,  "  You  need  a  drink,  old  man.  Let's  hurry 
up  that  slavey." 

With  the  first  course  their  countenances  cleared  a  little, 
with  the  second  they  were  almost  composed,  by  the  end  of 
dinner  they  had  started  plot-hatching  hopefully  again. 

"It's  any  odds  on  the  man's  still  being  in  town,"  said 
Welsh.  "He  had  no  money  or  clothes,  and  evidently  he 
hasn't  gone  to  any  of  his  friends,  or  the  whole  story  would 
have  been  out.  Now,  there  is  nowhere  where  a  man  can 
lie  low  so  well,  especially  if  he  is  hard  up,  as  London.  I 
can  answer  from  experience.  He  is  hardly  likely  to  be  in 
the  West  End,  or  the  best  class  of  suburbs,  so  we've  some- 
thing to  go  upon  at  once.  We  must  go  to  a  private  in- 


186  THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

quiry  office  and  put  men  on  his  track,  and  then  we  must 
take  the  town  in  beats  ourselves.  So  much  is  clear;  do 
you  see  ?  " 

"  And  hadn't  we  better  find  out  whether  anything  more 
is  known  at  Clankwood?"  suggested  Twiddel.  "Dr 
Congleton  wrote  a  month  ago;  perhaps  they  have  caught 
him  by  this  time." 

"Hardly  likely,  I'm  afraid;  he'd  have  written  to  you  if 
they  had.  Still,  we  can  but  ask." 

"But,  I  say!"  the  doctor  suddenly  exclaimed,  "people 
may  find  out  that  I'm  back  without  him." 

Welsh  was  equal  to  the  emergency. 

"You  must  leave  again  at  once,"  he  said  decisively, 
rising  from  the  table;  "and  there's  no  good  wasting  time, 
either." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  the  bewildered  doctor, 
who  had  not  yet  assimilated  the  criminal  point  of  view. 

"  We'll  put  our  luggage  straight  on  to  a  cab,  drive  off  to 
other  rooms — I  know  a  cheap  place  that  will  do — and  if 
by  any  chance  inquiries  are  made,  people  must  be  told 
that  you  are  still  abroad.  Nobody  must  hear  of  your  com- 
ing home  to-night." 

"  Is  it "  began  Twiddel,  dubiously. 

"  Is  it  what  ?  "  snapped  his  friend. 

"Is  it  worth  it?" 

"Is  £500,  not  to  speak  of  two  reputations,  worth  it! 
Come  on ! " 

The  unfortunate  doctor  sighed,  and  rose  too.  He  was 
beginning  to  think  that  the  nefarious  acquisition  of  fees 
might  have  drawbacks  after  all. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  187 


CHAPTER  H. 

The  chronicle  must  now  go  back  a  few  days  and  follow 
another  up-express. 

"I  must  either  be  a  clergyman  or  a  policeman,"  Mr 
Bunker  reflected,  in  the  corner  of  his  carriage;  "they  seem 
to  me  to  be  on  the  whole  the  two  least  molested  profes- 
sions. Each  certainly  has  a  livery  which,  if  its  occupier  is 
ordinarily  judicious,  ought  to  serve  as  a  certificate  of 
sanity.  To  me  all  policemen  are  precisely  alike,  but  I 
daresay  they  know  them  apart  in  the  force,  and  as  all  the 
beats  and  crossings  are  presumably  taken  already,  I 
might  excite  suspicion  by  my  mere  superfluity.  Besides, 
a  theatrical  costumier's  uniform  would  possibly  lack  some 
ridiculous  but  essential  detail." 

He  lit  another  cigar  and  looked  humorously  out  of  the 
window. 

"I  shall  take  orders.  An  amateur  theatrical  clergy- 
man's costume  will  be  more  comfortable,  and  probably 
less  erroneous.  They  allow  them  some  latitude,  I  be- 
lieve; and  I  don't  suppose  there  are  any  visible  ordination 
scars  whose  absence  would  give  me  away.  I  shall  cer- 
tainly study  the  first  reverend  brother  I  meet  to  see." 

Thus  wisely  ruminating,  he  arrived  in  London  at  a  very 
early  hour  on  a  chilly  morning,  and  drove  straight  to  a 
small  hotel  near  King's  Cross,  where  the  landlord  was 
much  gratified  at  receiving  so  respectable  a  guest  as  the 


188  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

Rev.  Alexander  Butler.  ("I  must  begin  with  a  B."  said 
Mr  Bunker  to  himself;  "I  think  it's  lucky.") 

It  is  true  the  reverend  gentleman  was  in  evening  clothes, 
while  his  hat  and  coat  had  a  singularly  secular,  not  to  say 
fashionable,  appearance;  but,  as  he  mentioned  casually 
in  the  course  of  some  extremely  affable  remarks,  he  had 
been  dining  in  a  country  house,  and  had  not  thought  it 
worth  while  changing  before  he  left.  After  breakfasting 
he  dressed  himself  in  an  equally  secular  suit  of  tweeds 
and  went  out,  he  mentioned  incidentally,  to  call  at  his 
tailor's  for  his  professional  habit,  which  he  seemed  sur- 
prised to  learn  had  not  yet  been  forwarded  to  the  hotel. 

A  visit  to  a  certain  well-known  firm  of  theatrical  cos- 
tumiers was  followed  by  his  reappearance  in  a  cab  accom- 
panied by  a  bulky  brown  paper  parcel;  and  presently  he 
emerged  from  his  room  attired  more  consistently  with  his 
office,  much  to  his  own  satisfaction,  for,  as  he  observed, 
"I  cannot  say  I  approve  of  clergymen  masquerading  as 
laymen." 

His  opinion  on  the  converse  circumstance  was  not  ex- 
pressed. 

Much  to  his  landlord's  disappointment,  he  informed 
him  that  he  should  probably  leave  again  that  afternoon, 
and  then  he  went  out  for  a  walk. 

About  half  an  hour  later  he  was  once  more  in  the  street 
where,  not  so  very  long  ago,  a  very  exciting  cab-race  had 
finished.  He  strolled  slowly  past  Dr  Twiddel's  house. 
The  blinds  of  the  front  room  were  down;  at  that  hour 
there  was  no  sign  of  life  about  it,  and  he  saw  nothing  at 
all  to  arrest  his  attention.  Then  he  looked  down  the 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  189 

other  side  of  the  street,  and  to  his  great  satisfaction  spied 
a  card,  with  the  legend  "Apartments  to  let,"  in  one  of  the 
first-floor  windows  of  a  house  immediately  opposite. 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  in  a  moment  a  rotund  and  loqua- 
cious landlady  appeared.  Yes,  the  drawing-room  was  to 
let;  would  the  reverend  gentleman  come  up  and  see  it? 
Mr  Bunker  went  up,  and  approved.  They  readily 
agreed  upon  terms,  and  the  landlady,  charmed  with  her 
new  lodger's  appearance  and  manners,  no  less  than  with 
the  respectability  of  his  profession,  proceeded  to  descant 
at  some  length  on  the  quiet,  comfort,  and  numerous  other 
advantages  of  the  apartments. 

"  Just  the  very  plice  you  wants,  sir.  We  'ave  'ad  clerical 
gentlemen  'ere  before,  sir;  in  fact,  there's  one  a-staying 
'ere  now,  second  floor, — you  may  know  of  'im,  sir, — the 
Reverend  Mr  John  Duggs;  a  very  pleasant  gentleman 
you'll  find  him,  sir.  I'll  tell  'im  you're  'ere,  sir;  'e'd  be 
sure  to  like  to  meet  another  gentleman  of  the  syme  cloth, 
has  they  say." 

Somehow  or  other  the  Rev.  Mr  Butler  failed  to  display 
the  hearty  pleasure  at  this  announcement  that  the  worthy 
Mrs  Gabbon  had  naturally  expected. 

Aloud  he  merely  said,  "Indeed,"  politely,  but  with  no 
unusual  interest. 

Within  himself  he  reflected,  "  The  deuce  take  Mr  John 
Duggs !  However,  I  want  the  rooms,  and  a  man  must  risk 
something." 

As  a  precautionary  measure  he  visited  a  second-hand 
bookseller  on  his  way  back,  and  purchased  a  small  assort- 
ment of  the  severest-looking  works  on  theology  they  kept 


190  THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE 

in  stock;  and  these,  with  his  slender  luggage,  he  brought 
round  to  Mrs  Gabbon's  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon. 

He  looked  carefully  out  of  his  sitting-room  window, 
but  the  doctor's  blinds  were  still  down,  and  he  saw  no  one 
coming  or  going  about  the  house;  so  he  began  his  inquiries 
by  calling  up  his  landlady. 

"  I  have  been  troubled  with  lumbago,  Mrs  Gabbon,"  he 
began. 

"  Dearie  me,  sir,"  said  Mrs  Gabbon,  "  I'm  sorry  to  'ear 
that;  you  that  looks  so  'ealthy  too!  Well,  one  never 
knows  what's  be'ind  a  'appy  hexterior,  does  one,  sir  ? " 

"No,  Mrs  Gabbon,"  replied  Mr  Bunker,  solemnly; 
"one  never  knows  what  even  a  clergyman's  coat  con- 
ceals." 

"That's  very  true,  sir.  In  the  midst  of  life  we  are 
in " 

"  Lumbago,"  interposed  Mr  Bunker. 

Mrs  Gabbon  looked  a  trifle  startled. 

"Well,"  he  continued  with  the  same  gravity,  "I  may 
unfortunately  have  occasion  to  consult  a  doctor " 

"There's  Dr  Smith,"  interrupted  Mrs  Gabbon,  her 
equanimity  quite  restored  by  his  ecclesiastical  tone  and 
the  mention  of  ailments;  "  'e  attended  my  poor  dear 
'usband  hall  through  his  last  illness;  an  huncommon  clever 
doctor,  sir,  as  I  ought  to  know,  sir,  bein' " 

"  No  doubt  an  excellent  man,  Mrs  Gabbon;  but  I  should 
like  to  know  of  one  as  near  at  hand  as  possible.  Now  I 
see  the  name  of  a  Dr  Twiddel " 

"I  wouldn't  recommend  'im,  sir,"  said  Mrs  Gabbon, 
pursing  her  mouth. 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  191 

Indeed?    Why  not?" 

"  'E  attended  Mrs  Brown's  servant-girl,  sir, — she  bein' 
the  lady  as  has  the  'ouse  next  door, — and  what  he  give  'er 
didn't  do  no  good.  Mrs  Brown  tell  me  'erself." 

"Still,  in  an  emergency " 

"Besides  which,  he  ain't  at  'ome,  sir." 

"  Where  has  he  gone  ?  " 

"Abroad,  they  do  say,  sir;  though  I  don't  rightly  know 
much  about  'im." 

"  Has  he  been  away  long  ?  " 

Mrs  Gabbon  considered. 

"It  must  'ave  bin  before  the  middle  of  November  he 
went,  sir." 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Mr  Bunker,  keenly,  though  ap- 
parently more  to  himself  than  his  landlady. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir  ?  " 

"The  middle  of  November,  you  say?  That's  a  long 
holiday  for  a  doctor  to  take." 

"  'E  'avn't  no  practice  to  speak  of, — not  as  I  knows  of, 
leastways." 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he — young  or  old  ?  " 

"By  my  opinion,  sir,  'e's  too  young.  I  don't  'old  by 
them  young  doctors.  Now  Dr  Smith,  sir " 

"  Dr  Twiddel  is  quite  a  young  man,  then  ?  " 

"What  I'd  call  little  better  than  a  boy,  sir.  They  tell 
me  they  lets  'em  loose  very  young  nowadays." 

"About  twenty-five,  say?" 

"  'E  might  be  that,  sir;  but  I  don't  know  much  about 
'im,  sir.  Now  Dr  Smith,  sir,  'e's  different." 

In  fact  at  this  point  Mrs  Gabbon  showed  such  a  ten- 


192  THE    LUNATIC    AT   LARGE 

dency  to  turn  the  conversation  back  to  the  merits  of  Dr 
Smith  and  the  precise  nature  of  Mr  Bunker's  ailment, 
that  her  lodger,  in  despair,  requested  her  to  bring  up  a  cup 
of  tea  as  speedily  as  possible. 

"Before  the  middle  of  November,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  It  is  certainly  a  curious  coincidence." 

To  a  gentleman  of  Mr  Bunker's  sociable  habits  and 
active  mind,  the  prospect  of  sitting  day  by  day  in  the  com- 
pany of  his  theological  treatises  and  talkative  landlady, 
and  watching  an  apparently  uninhabited  house,  seemed 
at  first  sight  even  less  entertaining  than  a  return  to 
Clankwood.  But,  as  he  said  of  himself,  he  possessed 
a  kind  of  easy  workaday  philosophy,  and,  besides  that,  an 
apparently  irresistible  attraction  for  the  incidents  of 
life. 

He  had  barely  finished  his  cup  of  tea,  and  was  sitting 
over  the  fire  smoking  one  of  the  Baron's  cigars  and  looking 
through  one  of  the  few  books  he  had  brought  that  bore  no 
relation  to  divinity,  his  feet  high  upon  the  side  of  the 
mantelpiece,  his  ready-made  costume  perhaps  a  little 
more  unbuttoned  than  the  strictest  propriety  might  ap- 
prove, and  a  stiff  glass  of  whisky-and-water  at  his  elbow, 
when  there  came  a  rap  at  his  door. 

In  response  to  his  "Come  in,"  a  middle-aged  gentle- 
man, dressed  in  clerical  attire,  entered.  He  had  a  broad, 
bearded  face,  a  dull  eye,  and  an  indescribably  average 
aspect. 

"The  devil!  Mr  John  Duggs  himself,"  thought  Mr 
Bunker,  hastily  adopting  a  more  conventional  attitude 
and  feeling  for  his  button-holes. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  193 

"Ah — er — Mr  Butler,  I  believe?"  said  the  stranger, 
with  an  apologetic  air. 

"The  same,"  replied  Mr  Bunker,  smiling  affably. 

"I,"  continued  his  visitor,  advancing  with  more  con- 
fidence, "  am  Mr  Duggs.  I  am  dwelling  at  present  in  the 
apartment  immediately  above  you,  and  hearing  of  the 
arrival  of  a  fellow-clergyman,  through  my  worthy  friend 
Mrs  Gabbon,  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  calling.  She 
gave  me  to  understand  that  you  were  not  undesirous  of 
making  my  acquaintance,  Mr  Butler." 

"The  deuce,  she  did!"  thought  Mr  Butler.  Aloud  he 
answered  most  politely,  "I  am  honoured,  Mr  Duggs. 
Won't  you  sit  down  ?  " 

First  casting  a  wary  eye  upon  a  chair,  Mr  Duggs  seated 
himself  carefully  on  the  edge  of  it. 

"It  is  quite  evident,"  thought  Mr  Bunker,  "that  he  has 
spotted  something  wrong.  I  believe  a  bobby  would  have 
been  safer  after  all." 

He  assumed  the  longest  face  he  could  draw,  and  re- 
marked sententiously,  "The  weather  has  been  unpleas- 
antly cold  of  late,  Mr  Duggs." 

He  flattered  himself  that  his  guest  seemed  instantly 
more  at  his  ease.  Certainly  he  replied  with  as  much 
cordiality  as  a  man  with  such  a  dull  eye  could  be  supposed 
to  display. 

"It  has,  Mr  Butler;  in  fact  I  have  suffered  from  a  chill 
for  some  weeks.  Ahem ! " 

"Have  something  to  drink,"  suggested  Mr  Bunker, 
sympathetically.  "  I'm  trying  a  little  whisky  myself,  as  a 
cure  for  cold." 


194  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"I — ah — I  am  sorry.     I  do  not  touch  spirits." 

"  I,  on  the  contrary,  am  glad  to  hear  it.  Too  few  of  our 
clergymen  nowadays  support  the  cause  of  temperance  by 
example." 

Mr  Bunker  felt  a  little  natural  pride  in  this  happily 
expressed  sentiment,  but  his  visitor  merely  turned  his  cold 
eye  on  the  whisky  bottle,  and  breathed  heavily. 

"Confound  him!"  he  thought;  "I'll  give  him  something 
to  snort  at  if  he  is  going  to  conduct  himself  like  this." 

"Have  a  cigar?"  he  asked  aloud. 

Mr  Duggs  seemed  to  regard  the  cigar-box  a  little  less 
unkindly  than  the  whisky  bottle;  but  after  a  careful  look 
at  it  he  replied,  "  I  am  afraid  they  seem  a  little  too  strong 
for  me.  I  am  a  light  smoker,  Mr  Butler." 

"Really,"  smiled  Mr  Bunker;  "so  many  virtues  in  one 
room  reminds  me  of  the  virgins  of  Gomorrah." 

"I  beg  your  pardon?  The  what?"  asked  Mr  Duggs, 
with  a  startled  stare. 

Mr  Bunker  suspected  that  he  had  made  a  slip  in  his 
biblical  reminiscences,  but  he  continued  to  smile  im- 
perturbably,  and  inquired  with  a  perfect  air  of  surprise, 
"  Haven't  you  read  the  novel  I  referred  to  ?  " 

Mr  Duggs  appeared  a  little  relieved,  but  he  answered 
blankly  enough,  "I — ah — have  not.  What  is  the  book 
you  refer  to  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  you  know  ?  To  tell  the  truth,  I  forget  the 
title.  It's  by  a  somewhat  well-known  lady  writer  of 
religious  fiction.  A  Miss — her  name  escapes  me  at  this 
moment." 

In  fact,  as  Mr  Bunker  had  no  idea  how  long  his  friend 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  195 

might  be  dwelling  in  the  apartment  immediately  above 
him,  he  thought  it  more  prudent  to  make  no  statement 
that  could  possibly  be  checked. 

"  I  am  no  great  admirer  of  religious  fiction  of  any  kind," 
replied  Mr  Duggs,  "  particularly  that  written  by  emotional 
females." 

"No,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  pleasantly;  "I  should  imagine 
your  own  doctrines  were  not  apt  to  err  on  the  sentimental 
side." 

"  I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  said  anything  to  you  about 
my — doctrines,  as  you  call  them,  Mr  Butler." 

"Still,  don't  you  think  one  can  generally  tell  a  man's 
creed  from  his  coat,  and  his  sympathies  from  the  way  he 
cocks  his  hat  ?  " 

"I  think,"  replied  Mr  Duggs,  "that  our  ideas  of  our 
vocation  are  somewhat  different." 

"  Mine  is,  I  admit,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  who  had  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  strain  of  playing  his  part  was  really 
too  great,  and  was  now  being  happily  carried  along  by  his 
tongue. 

Mr  Duggs  for  a  moment  was  evidently  disposed  to  give 
battle,  but  thinking  better  of  it,  he  contented  himself  with 
frowning  at  his  younger  opponent,  and  abruptly  changed 
the  subject. 

"May  I  ask  what  position  you  hold  in  the  church,  Mr 
Butler?" 

"Why,"  began  Mr  Bunker,  lightly:  it  was  on  the  tip  of 
his  tongue  to  say  "  a  clergyman,  of  course,"  when  he  sud- 
denly recollected  that  he  might  be  anything  from  the  rank 
of  curate  up  to  the  people  who  wear  gaiters  (and  who  these 


196  THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

were  precisely  he  didn't  know).  An  ingenious  solution 
suggested  itself.  He  replied  with  a  preliminary  inquiry, 
"  Have  you  ever  been  in  the  East,  Mr  Duggs  ?  " 

"  I  regret  to  say  I  have  not  hitherto  had  the  opportu- 
nity." 

"Thank  the  Lord  for  that,"  thought  Mr  Bunker.  "I 
have  been  a  missionary,"  he  said  quietly,  and  looked 
dreamily  into  the  fire. 

It  was  a  happy  move.  Mr  Duggs  was  visibly  im- 
pressed. 

"Ah?"  he  said.  "Indeed?  I  am  much  interested  to 
learn  this,  Mr  Butler.  It — ah — gives  me  perhaps  a  some- 
what different  view  of  your — ah — opinions.  Where  did 
your  work  lie  ?  " 

"  China,"  replied  Mr  Bunker,  thinking  it  best  to  keep  as 
far  abroad  as  possible. 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Mr  Duggs.  "This  is  really  extreme- 
ly fortunate.  I  am  at  present,  Mr  Butler,  studying  the 
religions  and  customs  of  China  at  the  British  Museum, 
with  a  view  to  going  out  there  myself  very  shortly.  I 
already  feel  I  know  almost  as  much  about  that  most  in- 
teresting country  as  if  I  had  lived  there.  I  should  like  to 
talk  with  you  at  some  length  on  the  subject." 

Mr  Bunker  saw  that  it  was  time  to  put  an  end  to  this 
conversation,  at  whatever  minor  risk  of  perturbing  his 
visitor.  He  had  been  a  little  alarmed,  too,  by  noticing 
that  Mr  Duggs'  dull  eye  had  wandered  frequently  to  his 
theological  library,  which  with  his  usual  foresight  he  had 
strewn  conspicuously  on  the  table,  and  that  any  expression 
it  had  was  rather  of  suspicious  curiosity  than  gratification. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  197 

"I  should  like  to  hear  some  of  your  experiences,"  Mr 
Duggs  continued.  "In  what  province  did  you  work?" 

"In  Hung  Hang  Ho,"  replied  Mr  Bunker.  His  visitor 
looked  puzzled,  but  he  continued  boldly,  "  My  experiences 
were  somewhat  unpleasant.  I  became  engaged  to  a 
mandarin's  daughter — a  charming  girl.  I  was  suspected, 
however,  of  abetting  an  illicit  traffic  in  Chinese  lanterns. 
My  companions  were  manicured  alive,  and  I  only  made 
my  escape  in  a  pagoda,  or  a  junk — I  was  in  too  much  of  a 
hurry  to  notice  which — at  the  imminent  peril  of  my  life. 
Don't  go  to  China,  Mr  Duggs." 

Mr  Duggs  rose. 

"Young  man,"  he  said,  sternly,  "put  away  that  fatal 
bottle.  I  can  only  suppose  that  it  is  under  the  influence  of 
drink  that  you  have  ventured  to  tell  me  such  an  irreverent 
and  impossible  story." 

"  Sir,"  began  Mr  Bunker,  warmly, — for  he  thought  that 
an  outburst  of  indignation  would  probably  be  the  safest 
way  of  concluding  the  interview, — when  he  stopped  ab- 
ruptly and  listened.  All  the  time  his  ears  had  been  alive 
to  anything  going  on  outside,  and  now  he  heard  a  cab 
rattle  up  and  stop  close  by.  It  might  be  at  Dr  Twiddel's, 
he  thought,  and,  turning  from  his  visitor,  he  sprang  to  the 
window. 

Remarking  distantly,  "I  hear  a  cab;  it  is  possibly  a 
friend  I  am  expecting,"  Mr  Duggs  stepped  to  the  other 
window. 

It  was  only,  however,  a  hansom  at  the  door  of  the  next 
house,  out  of  which  a  very  golden-haired  young  lady  was 
stepping. 


198  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"Aha,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  quite  forgetting  the  indignant 
role  he  had  begun  to  play;  "rather  nice!  Is  this  your 
friend,  Mr  Duggs  ?  " 

Mr  Duggs  gave  him  one  look  of  his  dull  eyes,  and 
walked  straight  for  the  door.  As  he  went  out  he  merely 
remarked,  "  Our  acquaintance  has  been  brief,  Mr  Butler, 
but  it  has  been  quite  sufficient." 

"Quite,"  thought  Mr  Bunker. 


CHAPTER  III. 

That  was  Mr  Bunker's  first  and  last  meeting  with  the 
Rev.  John  Duggs,  and  he  took  no  small  credit  to  himself 
for  having  so  effectually  incensed  his  neighbour,  without, 
at  the  same  time,  bringing  suspicion  on  anything  more 
pertinent  than  his  sobriety. 

And  yet  sometimes  in  the  course  of  the  next  three  days 
he  would  have  been  thankful  to  see  him  again,  if  only  to 
have  another  passage-of-arms.  The  time  passed  most 
wearily;  the  consulting-room  blinds  were  never  raised;  no 
cabs  stopped  before  the  doctor's  door;  nobody  except  the 
little  servant  ever  moved  about  the  house. 

He  could  think  of  no  plan  better  than  waiting;  and  so  he 
waited,  showing  himself  seldom  in  the  streets,  and  even 
sitting  behind  the  curtain  while  he  watched  at  the  window. 
After  writing  at  some  length  to  the  Baron  he  had  no 
further  correspondence  that  he  could  distract  himself 
with;  he  was  even  forced  once  or  twice  to  dip  into  the 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  199 

theological  works.  Mrs  Gabbon  had  evidently  *'  'card 
sommat "  from  Mr  Duggs,  and  treated  him  to  little  of  her 
society.  The  boredom  became  so  excessive  that  he  de- 
cided he  must  make  a  move  soon,  however  rash  it  was. 

The  only  active  step  he  took,  and  indeed  the  only  step 
he  saw  his  way  to  take,  was  a  call  on  Dr  Twiddel's  locum. 
But  luck  seemed  to  run  dead  against  him.  Dr  Billson 
had  departed  "on  his  holiday,"  he  was  informed,  and 
would  not  return  for  three  weeks.  So  Mr  Bunker  was 
driven  back  to  his  window  and  the  Baron's  cigars. 

It  was  the  evening  of  his  fourth  day  in  Mrs  Gabbon 's 
rooms.  He  had  finished  a  modest  dinner  and  was  dealing 
himself  hands  at  piquet  with  an  old  pack  of  cards,  when 
he  heard  the  rattle  of  a  cab  coming  up  the  street.  The 
usual  faint  flicker  of  hope  rose:  the  cab  stopped  below 
him,  the  flicker  burned  brighter,  and  in  an  instant  he  was 
at  the  window.  He  opened  the  slats  of  the  blind,  and  the 
flicker  was  aflame.  Before  the  doctor's  house  a  four- 
wheeled  cab  was  standing  laden  with  luggage,  and  two 
men  were  going  up  the  steps.  He  watched  the  luggage 
being  taken  in  and  the  cab  drive  away,  and  then  he  turned 
radiantly  back  to  the  fire. 

"The  curtain  is  up,"  he  said  to  himself.  "What's  the 
first  act  to  be?" 

Presently  he  put  on  his  wideawake  hat  and  went  out  for 
a  stroll.  He  walked  slowly  past  the  doctor's  house,  but 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  or  heard.  Remembering  the 
room  at  the  back,  he  was  not  surprised  to  find  no  chink  of 
light  about  the  front  windows,  and  thinking  it  better  not 
to  run  the  risk  of  being  seen  lingering  there,  he  walked  on. 


200  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

He  was  in  such  good  spirits,  and  had  been  cooped  up  so 
continually  for  the  last  few  days,  that  he  went  on  and  on, 
and  it  was  not  till  about  a  couple  of  hours  had  passed  that 
he  approached  his  rooms  again.  As  he  came  down  the 
street  he  was  surprised  to  see  by  the  light  of  a  lamp  that 
another  four-wheeler  was  standing  before  the  doctor's 
house,  also  laden  with  luggage. 

Two  men  jumped  in,  one  after  another,  and  when  he 
had  come  at  his  fastest  walk  within  twenty  yards  or  so, 
the  cabman  whipped  up  and  drove  rapidly  away,  luggage 
and  men  and  all. 

He  looked  up  and  down  for  a  hansom,  but  there  were 
none  to  be  seen.  For  a  few  yards  he  set  off  at  a  run  in 
pursuit,  and  then,  finding  that  the  horse  was  being  driven 
at  a  great  rate,  and  remembering  the  paucity  of  stray  cabs 
in  the  quiet  streets  and  roads  round  about,  he  stopped  and 
considered  the  question. 

"After  all,"  he  reflected,  "it  may  not  have  been  Dr 
Twiddel  who  drove  away;  in  fact,  if  it  was  he  who  arrived 
in  the  first  cab,  it's  any  odds  against  it.  Pooh!  It  can't 
be.  Still,  it's  a  curious  thing  if  two  cabs  loaded  with 
luggage  came  to  the  house  in  the  same  evening,  and  one 
drove  away  without  unlading." 

With  his  spirits  a  little  damped  in  spite  of  his  philosophy, 
he  went  back  to  his  rooms. 

In  the  morning  the  consulting-room  blinds  were  still 
down,  and  the  house  looked  as  deserted  as  ever. 

He  waited  till  lunch,  and  then  he  went  out  boldly  and 
pulled  the  doctor's  bell.  The  same  little  maid  appeared, 
but  she  evidently  did  not  recognise  the  fashionable  patient 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  201 

who  disappeared  so  mysteriously  in  the  demure-looking 
clergyman  at  the  door. 

"Is  Dr  Twiddel  at  home?" 

"No,  sir,  he  ain't  back  yet." 

"He  hasn't  been  back?" 

"No,  sir." 

Mr  Bunker  looked  at  her  keenly,  and  then  said  to  him- 
self, "She  is  lying." 

He  thought  he  would  try  a  chance  shot. 

"But  he  was  expected  home  last  night,  I  believe." 

The  maid  looked  a  little  staggered. 

"He  ain't  been,"  she  replied. 

"  I  happen  to  have  heard  that  he  called  here,"  he  haz- 
arded again. 

This  time  she  was  evidently  put  about. 

"He  ain't  been  here — as  I  knows  of." 

He  slipped  half-a-crown  into  her  hand. 

"Think  again,"  he  said,  in  his  most  winning  accents. 

The  poor  little  maid  was  obviously  in  a  dilemma. 

"  Do  you  want  him  particular,  sir  ?  " 

"Particularly." 

She  fidgeted  a  little. 

"He  told  me,"  he  pursued,  "that  he  might  look  in  at 
his  rooms  last  night.  He  left  no  message  for  me  ?  " 

" What  nime,  sir?" 

"Mr  Butler." 

"No,  sir." 

"Then,  my  dear,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  with  his  most  in- 
sinuating smile,  "he  was  here  for  a  little,  you  can't 
deny?" 


202  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

At  the  maid's  embarrassed  glance  down  his  long  coat, 
he  suddenly  realised  that  there  was  perhaps  a  distinction 
between  lay  and  clerical  smiles. 

"  He  might  have  just  looked  in,  sir,"  she  admitted. 

"But  he  didn't  want  it  known?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  Quite  right,  I  advised  him  not  to,  and  you  did  very  well 
not  to  tell  me  at  first." 

He  smiled  approvingly  and  made  a  pretence  of  turning 
away. 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,"  he  added,  stopping  as  if  struck  by  an 
after-thought,  "  Is  he  still  in  town  ?  He  promised  to  leave 
word  for  me,  but  he  has  evidently  forgotten." 

"I  don't  know,  sir;  'e  didn't  say." 

"  What  ?    He  left  no  word  at  all  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

Mr  Bunker  held  out  another  half-crown. 

"It's  truth,  sir,"  said  the  maid,  drawing  back;  "we 
don't  know  where  'e  is." 

"Take  it,  all  the  same;  you  have  been  very  discreet. 
You  have  no  idea?" 

The  maid  hesitated. 

"  I  did  'ear  Mr  Welsh  say  something  about  lookin'  for 
rooms,"  she  allowed. 

"In  London?" 

"I  expect  so,  sir;  but  'e  didn't  say  no  more." 

"  Mr  Welsh  is  the  friend  who  came  with  him,  of  course  ?  " 
'  "Yes,  sir." 

"Thanks,"  said  Mr  Bunker.  "By  the  way,  Dr  Twid- 
del  might  not  like  your  telling  this  even  to  a  friend,  so  you 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  203 

needn't  say  I  called,  I'll  tell  him  myself  when  I  see  him, 
and  I  won't  give  you  away." 

He  smiled  benignly,  and  the  little  maid  thanked  him 
quite  gratefully. 

"Evidently,"  he  thought  as  he  went  away,  "I  was 
meant  for  something  in  the  detective  line." 

He  returned  to  his  rooms  to  meditate,  and  the  longer 
he  thought  the  more  puzzled  he  became,  and  yet  the 
more  convinced  that  he  had  taken  up  a  thread  that  must 
lead  him  somewhere. 

"  As  for  my  plan  of  action,"  he  considered,  "  I  see  noth- 
ing better  for  it  than  staying  where  I  am — and  watching. 
This  mysterious  doctor  must  surely  steal  back  some  night. 
Now  and  then  I  might  go  round  the  town  and  try  a  cast  in 
the  likeliest  bars — oh,  hang  me,  though!  I  forgot  I  was  a 
clergyman." 

That  night  he  had  a  welcome  distraction  in  the  shape  of 
a  letter  from  the  Baron.  It  was  written  from  Brierley 
Park,  in  the  Baron's  best  pointed  German  hand,  and  it  ran 
thus — 

"MY  DEAR  BUNKER, — I  was  greatly  more  delighted 
than  I  am  able  to  express  to  you  from  the  amusing  cor- 
respondence you  addressed  me.  How  glad  I  am,  I  can 
assure  you,  that  you  are  still  in  safety  and  comfort.  Re- 
member, my  dear  friend,  to  call  for  me  when  need  arises, 
although  I  do  think  you  can  guard  yourself  as  well  as 
most  alone. 

"This  leaves  me  happy  and  healthful,  and  in  utmost 
prosperity  with  the  kind  Sir  Richard  and  his  charming 
Lady.  You  English  certainly  know  well  how  to  cause 
time  to  pass  with  mirth.  About  instruction  I  say  less ! 


204  THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

"  They  have  talked  of  you  here.  I  laugh  and  keep  my 
tongue  when  they  wonder  who  he  is  and  whither  gone 
away.  Now  that  anger  is  passed  and  they  see  I  myself 
enjoy  the  joke,  they  say,  and  especially  do  the  ladies, 
(You  humbug,  Bunker!)  'How  charming  was  the  imita- 
tion, Baron!'  You  can  indeed  win  the  hearts,  if  wishful 
so.  The  Lady  Grillyer  and  her  unexpressable  daughter 
I  have  often  seen.  To-day  they  come  here  for  two  nights. 
I  did  suggest  it  to  Lady  Brierley,  and  I  fear  she  did  sus- 
pect the  condition  of  my  heart;  but  she  charmingly  smiled, 
she  asked  them,  and  they  come! 

"The  Countess,  I  fear,  does  not  now  love  you  much, 
my  friend;  but  then  she  knows  not  the  truth.  The  Lady 
Alicia  is  strangely  silent  on  the  matter  of  Mr  Bunker,  but 
in  time  she  also  doubtless  will  forgive."  (At  this  Mr 
Bunker  smiled  in  some  amusement.) 

"When  they  leave  Brierley  I  also  shall  take  my  de- 
parture on  the  following  day,  that  is  in  three  days.  There- 
fore write  hastily,  Bunker,  and  name  the  place  and  hour 
where  we  shall  meet  again  and  dine  festively.  I  expect  a 
most  reverent  clergyman  and  much  instructive  discourse. 
Ah,  humbug! — Thine  always, 

"  RUDOLPH   VON    BLITZENBEBG. 

"P./S. — She  is  sometimes  more  kind  and  sometimes  so 
distant.  Ah,  I  know  not  what  to  surmise!  But  to- 
morrow or  the  next  my  fate  will  be  decided.  Give  me  of 
your  prayers,  my  reverent  friend!  R.  VON  B." 

"Dear  old  Baron!"  said  Mr  Bunker.  "Well,  I've  at 
least  a  dinner  to  look  forward  to." 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  205 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Dr  Twiddel,  meanwhile,  was  no  less  anxious  to  make 
the  Rev.  Alexander  Butler's  acquaintance  than  the  Rev. 
Alexander  Butler  was  to  make  his.  Not  that  he  was 
aware  of  that  gentleman's  recent  change  of  identity  and 
occupation ;  but  most  industrious  endeavors  to  find  a  cer- 
tain Mr  Beveridge  were  made  in  the  course  of  the  next  few 
days.  He  and  Welsh  were  living  modestly  and  obscurely 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Pentonville  Road,  scouring 
the  town  by  day,  studying  a  map  and  laying  the  most 
ingenious  plans  at  night.  Welsh's  first  effort,  as  soon  as 
they  were  established  in  their  new  quarters,  was  to  induce 
his  friend  to  go  down  to  Clankwood  and  make  further 
inquiries,  but  this  Twiddel  absolutely  declined  to  do. 

"My  dear  chap,"  he  answered,  "supposing  anything 
were  found  out,  or  even  suspected,  what  am  I  to  say? 
Old  Congleton  knows  me  well,  and  for  his  own  sake  doesn't 
want  to  make  a  fuss;  but  if  he  really  spots  that  something 
is  wrong,  he  will  be  so  afraid  of  his  reputation  that  he'd 
give  me  away  like  a  shot." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  give  things  away  by  going  down 
and  seeing  him  ?  " 

"//  they  have  guessed  anything,  I'll  give  it  away.  I 
haven't  your  cheek,  you  know,  and  tact,  and  that  sort  of 
thing;  you'd  much  better  go  yourself." 

"I?    It  isn't  my  business." 


206  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

"  You  seem  to  be  making  it  yours.  Besides,  Dr  Congle- 
ton  thinks  it  is.  You  passed  yourself  off  as  the  chap's 
cousin,  and  it  is  quite  natural  for  you  to  go  and  inquire." 

Welsh  pondered  the  point.  "Hang  it,"  he  said  at  last, 
"it  would  do  just  as  well  to  write.  Perhaps  it's  safer 
after  all." 

"Well,  you  write." 

"  Why  should  I,  rather  than  you  ?  " 

"Because  you're  his  cousin." 

Welsh  considered  again.  "Well,  I  don't  suppose  it 
matters  much.  I'll  write,  if  you're  afraid." 

It  was  these  amiable  little  touches  in  his  friend's  con- 
versation that  helped  to  make  Twiddel's  lot  at  this  time 
so  pleasant.  In  fact,  the  doctor  was  learning  a  good  deal 
about  human  nature  in  cloudy  weather. 

With  great  care  Welsh  composed  a  polite  note  of  anxious 
inquiry,  and  by  return  of  post  received  the  following 
reply: — 

"Mr  DEAR  SIR, — I  regret  to  inform  you  that  we  have 
not  so  far  recovered  your  cousin  Mr  Beveridge.  In  all 
probability,  however,  this  cannot  be  long  delayed  now,  as 
he  was  seen  within  the  last  week  at  a  country  house  in 
Dampshire,  and  is  known  to  have  fled  to  London  im- 
mediately on  his  recognition,  but  before  he  could  be 
secured.  He  was  then  clean  shaved,  and  had  been  pass- 
ing under  the  name  of  Francis  Bunker.  We  are  making 
strict  inquiries  for  him  in  London. 

"Nobody  can  regret  the  unfortunate  circumstance  of 
his  escape  more  than  I,  and,  in  justice  to  myself  and  my 
institution,  I  can  assure  you  that  it  was  only  through  the 
most  unforeseen  and  remarkable  ingenuity  on  your  cousin's 
part  that  it  occurred. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  207 

"  Trusting  that  I  may  soon  be  able  to  inform  you  of  his 
recovery,  I  am,  yours  very  truly, 

"ADOLPHUS   S.    CONGLETON." 

Their  ardour  was,  if  possible,  increased  by  Dr  Congle- 
ton's  letter.  Mr  Beveridge  was  almost  certainly  in  Lon- 
don, and  they  knew  now  that  they  must  look  for  a  clean- 
shaved  man.  Two  private  inquiry  detectives  were  at 
work;  and  on  their  own  account  they  had  mapped  the 
likeliest  parts  of  London  into  beats,  visiting  every  bar  and 
restaurant  in  turn,  and  occasionally  hanging  about  stations 
and  the  stopping-places  for  'buses. 

It  was  dreadfully  hard  work,  and  after  four  days  of  it, 
even  Welsh  began  to  get  a  little  sickened. 

"Hang  it,"  he  said  in  the  evening,  "I  haven't  had  a 
decent  dinner  since  we  came  back.  Mr  Bunker  can  go  to 
the  devil  for  to-night,  I'm  going  to  dine  decently.  I'm 
sick  of  going  round  pubs,  and  not  even  stopping  to  have  a 
drink." 

"So  am  I,"  replied  Twiddel,  cordially;  "where  shall 
we  go  ?  " 

"The  Cafe  Maccarroni,"  suggested  Welsh;  "we  can't 
afford  a  West-end  place,  and  they  give  one  a  very  decent 
dinner  there." 

The  Cafe  Maccarroni  in  Holborn  is  nominally  of 
foreign  extraction, — certainly  the  waiters  and  the  stout 
proprietor  come  from  sunnier  lands, — and  many  of  the 
diners  you  can  hear  talking  in  strange  tongues,  with  quick 
gesticulations.  But  for  the  most  part  they  are  respectable 
citizens  of  London,  who  drink  Chianti  because  it  stimu- 
lates cheaply  and  not  unpleasantly.  The  white-painted 


208  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

room  is  bright  and  clean  and  seldom  very  crowded,  the 
British  palate  can  be  tickled  with  tolerable  joints  and 
cutlets,  and  the  foreign  with  gravy-covered  odds  and  ends. 
Altogether,  it  may  be  recommended  to  such  as  desire  to 
dine  comfortably  and  not  too  conspicuously. 

The  hour  at  which  the  two  friends  entered  was  later 
than  most  of  the  habitues  dine,  and  they  had  the  room 
almost  to  themselves.  They  faced  each  other  across  a 
small  table  beside  the  wall,  and  very  soon  the  discomforts 
of  their  researches  began  to  seem  more  tolerable. 

"We'll  catch  him  soon,  old  man,"  said  Welsh,  smiling 
more  affably  than  he  had  smiled  since  they  came  back. 
"  A  day  or  two  more  of  this  kind  of  work  and  even  London 
won't  be  able  to  conceal  him  any  longer." 

"Dash  it,  we  must,"  replied  Twiddel,  bravely.  "We'll 
show  old  Congleton  how  to  look  for  a  lunatic." 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Welsh,  "I  think  he'll  be  rather  re- 
lieved himself.  Waiter!  another  bottle  of  the  same." 

The  bottle  arrived,  and  the  waiter  was  just  filling  their 
glasses  when  a  young  clergyman  entered  the  room  and 
walked  quietly  towards  the  farther  end.  Welsh  raised 
his  glass  and  exclaimed,  "  Here's  luck  to  ourselves,  Twid- 
del, old  man!" 

At  that  moment  the  clergyman  was  passing  their  table, 
and  at  the  mention  of  this  toast  he  started  almost  im- 
perceptibly, and  then,  throwing  a  quick  glance  at  the  two, 
stopped  and  took  a  seat  at  the  next  table,  with  his  back 
turned  towards  them.  Welsh,  who  was  at  the  farther 
side,  looked  at  him  with  some  annoyance,  and  made  a 
sign  to  Twiddel  to  talk  a  little  more  quietly. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  209 

To  the  waiter,  who  came  with  the  menu,  the  clergyman 
explained  in  a  quiet  voice  that  he  was  waiting  for  a  friend, 
and  asked  for  an  evening  paper  instead,  in  which  he  soon 
appeared  to  be  deeply  engrossed. 

At  first  the  conversation  went  on  in  a  lower  tone,  but  in 
a  few  minutes  they  insensibly  forgot  their  neighbour,  and 
the  voices  rose  again  by  starts. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  Welsh  was  saying,  "we  can  discuss 
that  afterwards;  we  haven't  caught  him  yet." 

"I  want  to  settle  it  now." 

"But  I  thought  it  was  settled." 

"No,  it  wasn't,"  said  Twiddel,  with  a  foreign  and 
vinous  doggedness. 

"  What  do  you  suggest  then  ?  " 

"Divide  it  equally— £250  each." 

"You  think  you  can  claim  half  the  credit  for  the  idea 
and  half  the  trouble  ?  " 

"I  can  claim  all  the  risk — practically." 

"Pooh!"  said  Welsh.  "You  think  I  risked  nothing? 
Come,  come,  let's  talk  of  something  else." 

"Oh,  rot!"  interrupted  Twiddel,  who  by  this  time  was 
decidedly  flushed.  "  You  needn't  ride  the  high  horse  like 
that,  you  are  not  Mr  Mandell-Essington  any  longer." 

With  a  violent  start,  the  clergyman  brought  his  fist 
crash  on  the  table,  and  exclaimed  aloud,  "By  Heaven, 
that's  it!" 


210  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 


CHAPTER  V. 

As  one  may  suppose,  everybody  in  the  room  started  in 
great  astonishment  at  this  extraordinary  outburst.  With 
a  sharp  "Hollo!"  Twiddel  turned  in  his  seat,  to  see  the 
clergyman  standing  over  him  with  a  look  of  the  keenest 
inquiry  in  his  well-favoured  face. 

"  May  I  ask,  Dr  Twiddel,  what  you  know  of  the  gentle- 
man you  just  named  ?  "  he  said,  with  perfect  politeness. 

The  conscience-smitten  doctor  gazed  at  him  blankly, 
and  the  colour  suddenly  left  his  face.  But  Welsh's 
nerves  were  stronger;  and,  as  he  looked  hard  at  the 
stranger,  a  jubilant  light  leaped  to  his  eyes. 

"  It's  our  man ! "  he  cried,  before  his  friend  could  gather 
his  wits.  "It's  Beveridge,  or  Bunker,  or  whatever  he 
calls  himself!  Waiter!" 

Instantly  three  waiters,  all  agog,  hurried  at  his  sum- 
mons. 

Mr  Bunker  regarded  him  with  considerable  surprise. 
He  had  quite  expected  that  the  pair  would  be  thrown  into 
confusion,  but  not  that  it  would  take  this  form. 

"Excuse  me,  sir,"  he  began,  but  Welsh  interrupted  him 
by  crying  to  the  leading  waiter — 

"Fetch  a  four-wheeled  cab  and  a  policeman,  quick!" 
As  the  man  hesitated,  he  added,  "This  man  here  is  an 
escaped  lunatic." 

The  waiter  was  starting  for  the  door,  when  Mr  Bunker 
stepped  out  quickly  and  interrupted  him. 

"Stop  one  minute,  waiter,"  he  said,  with  a  quiet,  un- 


THE    LUNATIC    AT   LARGE  211 

ruffled  air  that  went  far  to  establish  his  sanity.  "Do  I 
look  like  a  lunatic  ?  Kindly  call  the  proprietor  first." 

The  stout  proprietor  was  already  on  his  way  to  their 
table,  and  the  one  or  two  other  diners  were  beginning  to 
gather  round.  Mr  Bunker's  manner  had  impressed 
even  Welsh,  and  after  his  nature  he  took  refuge  in  bluster. 

"I  say,  my  man,"  he  cried,  "this  won't  pass.  Some- 
body fetch  a  cab." 

"  Vat  is  dees  about  ? "  asked  the  proprietor,  coming  up. 

"Your  wine,  I'm  afraid,  has  been  rather  too  powerful 
for  this  gentleman,"  Mr  Bunker  explained,  with  a  smile. 

"Look  here,"  blustered  Welsh,  "do  you  know  you've 
got  a  lunatic  in  the  room  ?  " 

"You  can  perhaps  guess  it,"  smiled  Mr  Bunker,  in- 
dicating Welsh  with  his  eyes. 

The  waiters  began  to  twitter,  and  Welsh,  with  an  effort, 
pulled  himself  together. 

"My  friend  here,"  l^e  said,  "is  Dr  Twiddel,  a  well- 
known  practitioner  in  London.  He  can  tell  you  that  he 
certified  this  man  as  a  lunatic,  and  that  he  afterwards 
escaped  from  his  asylum.  That  is  so,  Twiddel  ?  " 

"Yes,"  assented  Twiddel,  whose  colour  was  beginning 
to  come  back  a  little. 

"  Who  are  you,  sare  ? "  asked  the  proprietor. 

"  Show  him  your  card,  Twiddel,"  said  Welsh,  producing 
his  own  and  handing  it  over. 

The  proprietor  looked  at  both  cards,  and  then  turned  to 
Mr  Bunker. 

"And  who  are  you,  sare?" 

"  My  name  is  Mandell-Essington." 


212  THE   LUNATIC   XT   LARGE 

"  His  name "  began  Welsh. 

"  Have  you  a  card  ?  "  interposed  the  proprietor. 

"I  am  sorry  I  have  not,"  replied  Mr  Bunker  (to  still 
call  him  by  the  name  of  his  choice). 

"His  name  is  Francis  Beveridge,"  said  Welsh. 

"I  beg  your  pardon;  it  is  Mandell-Essington." 

"  Any  other  description  ?  "  Welsh  asked,  with  a  sneer. 

"A  gentleman,  I  believe." 

"  No  other  occupation  ?  " 

"Not  unless  you  can  call  a  justice  of  the  peace  such," 
replied  Mr  Bunker,  with  a  smile. 

"And  yet  he  disguises  himself  as  a  clergyman!"  ex- 
claimed Welsh,  triumphantly,  turning  to  the  proprietor. 

Mr  Bunker  saw  that  he  was  caught,  but  he  merely 
laughed,  and  observed,  "  My  friend  here  disguises  himself 
in  liquor,  a  much  less  respectable  cloak." 

Unfortunately  the  humour  of  this  remark  was  somewhat 
thrown  away  on  his  present  audience;  indeed,  coming 
from  a  professed  clergyman,  it  produced  an  unfavourable 
impression. 

"  You  are  not  a  clergyman  ? "  said  the  proprietor,  sus- 
piciously. 

"I  am  glad  to  say  I  am  not,"  replied  Mr  Bunker, 
frankly. 

"  Den  vat  do  you  do  in  dis  dress  ?  " 

"I  put  it  on  as  a  compliment  to  the  cloth;  I  retain  it  at 
present  for  decency,"  said  Mr  Bunker,  whose  tongue  had 
now  got  a  fair  start  of  him. 

"Mad,"  remarked  Welsh,  confidentially,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  with  really  excellent  dramatic  effect. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  213 

By  this  time  the  audience  were  disposed  to  agree  with 
him. 

"  You  can  give  no  better  account  of  yourself  dan  dis  ?  " 
asked  the  proprietor. 

"I  am  anxious  to,"  replied  Mr  Bunker,  "but  a  public 
restaurant  is  not  the  place  in  which  I  choose  to  give  it." 

"Fetch  the  cab  and  the  policeman,"  said  Welsh  to  a 
waiter. 

At  this  moment  another  gentleman  entered  the  room, 
and  at  the  sight  of  him  Mr  Bunker's  face  brightened, 
and  he  stopped  the  waiter  by  a  cry  of,  "Wait  one  moment; 
here  comes  a  gentleman  who  knows  me." 

Everybody  turned,  and  beheld  a  burly,  very  fashionably 
dressed  young  man,  with  a  fair  moustache  and  a  cheerful 
countenance. 

"Ach,  Bonker!"  he  cried. 

This  confirmation  of  Mr  Bunker's  aliases  ought,  one 
would  expect,  to  have  delighted  the  two  conspirators,  but, 
instead,  it  produced  the  most  remarkable  effect.  Twid- 
del  utterly  collapsed,  while  even  Welsh's  impudence  at 
last  deserted  him.  Neither  said  a  word  as  the  Baron  von 
Blitzenberg  greeted  his  friend  with  affectionate  hearti- 
ness. 

"My  friend,  zis  is  good  for  ze  heart!  Bot,  how?  vat 
makes  it  here?" 

"My  dear  Baron,  the  most  unfortunate  mistake  has 

occurred.  Two  men  here "  But  at  this  moment  he 

stopped  in  great  surprise,  for  the  Baron  was  staring  hard 
first  at  Welsh  and  then  at  Twiddel. 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  "Mr  Mandell-Essington,  I  zink?" 


214  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

Welsh  hesitated  for  an  instant,  and  his  hesitation  was 
evident  to  all.  Then  he  replied,  "  No,  you  are  mistaken." 

"Surely  I  cannot  be;  you  did  stay  in  Fogelschloss ? " 
said  the  Baron.  "  Is  not  zis  Dr  Twiddel  ?  " 

"  No — er — ah — yes,"  stammered  Twiddel,  looking  feebly 
at  Welsh. 

The  Baron  looked  from  the  one  to  the  other  in  great 
perplexity,  when  Mr  Bunker,  who  had  been  much  puzzled 
by  this  conversation,  broke  in,  "  Did  you  call  that  person 
Mandell-Essington  ?  " 

"  I  cairtainly  zought  it  vas." 

"  Where  did  you  meet  him  ?  " 

"In  Bavaria,  at  my  own  castle." 

"You  are  mistaken,  sir,"  said  Welsh. 

"One  moment,  Mr  Welsh,"  said  Mr  Bunker.  "How 
long  ago  was  this,  Baron  ?  " 

"Jost  before  I  gom  to  London.  He  travelled  viz  zis 
ozzer  gentleman,  Dr  Twiddel." 

"You  are  wrong,  sir,"  persisted  Welsh. 

"For  his  health,"  added  the  Baron. 

A  light  began  to  dawn  on  Mr  Bunker. 

"His  health?"  he  cried,  and  then  smiled  politely  at 
Welsh. 

"We  will  talk  this  over,  Mr  Welsh." 

"  I  am  sorry  I  happen  to  be  going,"  said  Welsh,  taking 
his  hat  and  coat. 

"  What,  without  your  lunatic  ?  "  asked  Mr  Bunker. 

"  That  is  Dr  Twiddel's  affair,  not  mine.  Kindly  let  me 
pass,  sir." 

"No,  Mr  Welsh;  if  you  go  now,  it  will  be  in  the  com- 


THE    LUNATIC   AT    LARGE  215 

pany  of  that  policeman  you  were  so  anxious  to  send  for." 
There  was  such  an  unmistakable  threat  in  Mr  Bunker's 
voice  and  eye  that  Welsh  hesitated.  "  We  will  talk  it  over, 
Mr  Welsh,"  Mr  Bunker  repeated  distinctly.  "  Kindly  sit 
down.  I  have  several  things  to  ask  you  and  your  friend 
Dr  Twiddel." 

Muttering  something  under  his  breath,  Welsh  hung  up 
his  coat  and  hat,  sat  down,  and  then  assuming  an  air  of 
great  impudence,  remarked,  "Fire  away,  Mr  Mandell- 
Essington — Beveridge — Bunker,  or  whatever  you  call 
yourself." 

Without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to  this  piece  of 
humour,  Mr  Bunker  turned  to  the  bewildered  proprietor, 
and,  to  the  intense  disappointment  of  the  audience,  said, 
"You  can  leave  us  now,  thank  you;  our  talk  is  likely  to  be 
of  a  somewhat  private  nature."  As  their  gallery  with- 
drew, he  drew  up  a  chair  for  the  Baron,  and  all  four  sat 
round  the  small  table. 

"Now,"  said  Mr  Bunker  to  Welsh,  "you  will  perhaps 
be  kind  enough  to  give  me  a  precise  account  of  your 
doings  since  the  middle  of  November." 

"I'm  d d  if  I  do,"  replied  Welsh. 

"Sare,"  interposed  the  Baron  in  his  stateliest  manner, 
"  I  know  not  now  who  you  may  be,  but  I  see  you  are  no 
gentleman.  Ven  you  are  viz  gentlemen — and  noblemen — 
you  vill  please  to  speak  respectfully." 

The  stare  that  Welsh  attempted  in  reply  was  somewhat 
ineffective. 

"Perhaps,  Dr  Twiddel,  you  can  give  the  account  I 
want  ?  "  said  Mr  Bunker. 


THE    LUNATIC   AT   LARGE 

The  poor  doctor  looked  at  his  friend,  hesitated,  and 
finally  stammered  out,  "I — I  don't  see  why." 

Mr  Bunker  pulled  a  paper  out  of  his  pocket  and  showed 
it  to  him. 

"  Perhaps  this  may  suggest  a  why." 

When  the  doctor  saw  the  bill  for  Mr  Beveridge's  linen, 
the  last  of  his  courage  ebbed  away.  He  glanced  help- 
lessly at  Welsh,  but  his  ally  was  now  leaning  back  in  his 
chair  with  such  an  irritating  assumption  of  indifference, 
and  the  prospective  fee  had  so  obviously  vanished,  that 
he  was  suddenly  seized  with  the  most  virtuous  resolu- 
tions. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  know,  sir  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  In  the  first  place,  how  did  you  come  to  have  anything 
to  do  with  me  ?  " 

Welsh,  whose  sharp  wits  instantly  divined  the  weak 
point  in  the  attack,  cut  in  quickly,  "Don't  tell  him  if  he 
doesn't  know  already!" 

But  Twiddel's  relapse  to  virtue  was  complete.  "I  was 
asked  to  take  charge  of  you  while "  He  hesitated. 

"  While  I  was  unwell,"  smiled  Mr  Bunker.     "  Yes  ?  " 

"  I  was  to  travel  with  you." 

"Ah!" 

"But  I — I  didn't  like  the  idea,  you  see;  and  so — in 
fact — Welsh  suggested  that  I  should  take  him  instead." 

"  While  you  locked  me  up  in  Clankwood  ? " 

"Yes." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  Mr  Bunker,  "I  must  say  it  was 
a  devilish  humorous  idea." 

At  this  Twiddel  began  to  take  heart  again. 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  217 

"I  am  very  sorry,  sir,  for "  he  began,  when  the 

Baron  interrupted  excitedly. 

"  Zen  vat  is  your  name,  Bonker  ?  " 

"/  am  Mr  Mandell-Essington,  Baron." 

The  Baron  looked  at  the  other  two  in  turn  with  wide- 
open  eyes. 

Then  he  turned  indignantly  upon  Welsh. 

"  You  were  impostor  zen,  sare  ?  You  gom  to  my  house 
and  call  yourself  a  gentleman,  and  impose  upon  me,  and 
tell  of  your  family  and  your  estates.  You,  a  low — er — er — 
vat  you  say  ? — a  low  cad  !  Bonker,  I  cannot  sit  at  ze  same 
table  viz  zese  persons!" 

He  rose  as  he  spoke. 

"One  moment,  Baron!  Before  we  send  these  gentle- 
men back  to  their  really  promising  career  of  fraud,  I  want 
to  ask  one  or  two  more  questions."  He  turned  to  Twid- 
del.  "  What  were  you  to  be  paid  for  this  ?  " 

"£500." 

Mr  Bunker  opened  his  eyes.  "That's  the  way  my 
money  goes  ?  From  your  anxiety  to  recapture  me,  I 
presume  you  have  not  yet  been  paid  ?  " 

"No,  I  assure  you,  Mr  Essington,"  said  Twiddel, 
eagerly;  "I  give  you  my  word." 

"I  shall  judge  by  the  circumstances  rather  than  your 
word,  sir.  It  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to  inform  you  that 
you  have  had  your  trouble  for  nothing."  He  looked  at 
them  both  as  though  they  were  curious  animals,  and 
then  continued:  "You,  Mr  Welsh,  are  a  really  wonder- 
fully typical  rascal.  I  am  glad  to  have  met  you.  You 
can  now  put  on  your  coat  and  go."  As  Welsh  still  sat 


218  THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE 

defiantly,  he  added,  "At  once,  sir!  or  you  may  possibly 
find  policemen  and  four-wheeled  cabs  outside.  I  have 
something  else  to  say  to  Dr  Twiddel." 

With  the  best  air  he  could  muster,  Welsh  silently  cocked 
his  hat  on  the  side  of  his  head,  threw  his  coat  over  his  arm, 
and  was  walking  out,  when  a  watchful  waiter  intercepted 
him. 

"Your  bill,  sare." 

"My  friend  is  paying." 

"No,  Mr  Welsh,"  cried  the  real  Essington;  "I  think 
you  had  better  pay  for  this  dinner  yourself." 

Welsh  saw  the  vigilant  proprietor  already  coming  to- 
wards him,  and  with  a  look  that  augured  ill  for  Twiddel 
when  they  were  alone,  he  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket. 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Essington,  "the  inevitable  bill!" 

"And  now,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Twiddel,  "you, 
doctor,  seem  to  me  a  most  unfortunately  constructed 
biped;  your  nose  is  just  long  enough  to  enable  you  to  be 
led  into  a  singularly  original  adventure,  and  your  brains 
just  too  few  to  carry  it  through  creditably.  Hang  me  if  I 
wouldn't  have  made  a  better  job  of  the  business!  But 
before  you  disappear  from  the  company  of  gentlemen  I 
must  ask  you  to  do  one  favour  for  me.  First  thing  to- 
morrow morning  you  will  go  down  to  Clankwood,  tell 
what  lie  you  please,  and  obtain  my  legal  discharge,  or 
whatever  it's  called.  After  that  you  may  go  to  the  devil — 
or,  what  comes  much  to  the  same  thing,  to  Mr  Welsh — for 
all  I  care.  You  will  do  this  without  fail  ?  " 

"  Ye — es,"  stammered  Twiddel,  "  certainly,  sir." 

"You  may  now  retire — and  the  faster  the  better." 


THE    LUNATIC    AT    LARGE  219 

As  the  crestfallen  doctor  followed  his  ally  out  of  the 
restaurant,  the  Baron  exclaimed  in  disgust,  "Ze  cads! 
You  are  too  merciful.  You  should  punish." 

"  My  dear  Baron,  after  all  I  am  obliged  to  these  rascals 
for  the  most  amusing  time  I  have  ever  had  in  my  life,  and 
one  of  the  best  friends  I've  ever  made." 

"  Ach,  Bonker !  Bot  vat  do  I  say  ?  You  are  not  Bonker 
no  more,  and  yet  may  I  call  you  so,  jost  for  ze  sake  of 
pleasant  times  ?  It  vill  be  too  hard  to  change." 

"I'd  rather  you  would,  Baron.  It  will  be  a  perpetual 
in  memoriam  record  of  my  departed  virtues." 

"Departed,  Bonker?" 

"Departed,  Baron,"  his  friend  repeated  with  a  sigh; 
"for  how  can  I  ever  hope  to  have  so  spacious  a  field  for 
them  again?  Believe  me,  they  will  wither  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  orthodoxy.  And  now  let  us  order  dinner." 

"But  first,"  said  the  Baron,  blushing,  "I  haf  a  piece  of 
news." 

"Baron,  I  guess  it!" 

"Ze  Lady  Alicia  is  now  mine!     Congratulate!" 

"With  all  my  heart,  Baron!  What  could  be  a  fitter 
finish  than  the  detection  of  villainy,  the  marriage  of  all 
the  sane  people,  and  the  apotheosis  of  the  lunatic  ?  " 


THE  END. 


A     000818616     5 


